


Merino Blend

by shell



Series: Merino Blend [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, clint has a farm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4902190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shell/pseuds/shell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil had held Clint before--when he was bleeding out, when he was drugged, once when he'd woken Phil with his screams in a safe house after a particularly bad op--but never like this. Clint's face was buried in Phil's shoulder, his arms clutching Phil so tightly he could barely breathe. "Missed you so much," Clint said.</p><p>"I missed you, too," Phil said. "I'm sorry, Clint. God, I missed you too." Clint sniffed, loosening his grip enough for Phil to take a deep breath. </p><p>Then he took another, closing his eyes and inhaling slowly, because Clint smelled <em>fantastic.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Merino Blend

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to Mohair Singles. You can read it without reading that first, but it might make more sense if you read both stories.
> 
> I started this story way back when Agent Carter's first season was airing and Agents of SHIELD was on hiatus. When the rest of season 2 played out, I had to rework everything I'd already written. I hoped I'd finish everything before season 3 started, but obviously that didn't happen. This story matches canon through the end of season 2--although I did fudge with the timeline a little, and will more with the next story in order to make it work with Age of Ultron.
> 
> Thanks go to Lyrtzha and Bethbethbeth for beta, and to Reinventweather and Belle Abroad for brainstorming and encouragement.
> 
> Edited to fix borked html on 9/30.

**Prologue**

**September 23, 2012**

Phil walked casually down the street, black umbrella unfurled. He ducked into the nearest subway entrance, shaking the umbrella out as he made his way down the stairs. He got there just as a train was leaving. It was late, and the platform was nearly empty. He found a deserted corner and pulled a burner phone from his pocket, dialing a number he'd memorized years earlier.

"You have reached the automated ordering system for Bertha's Hungarian Pizzas. Please state or enter your phone number, area code first." Phil thought the voice sounded a little like an Eastern European Siri. He briefly wondered what Stark would make of it all.

"Six-niner-alpha, charlie-bravo-three, papa-charlie-five-two," he said quietly.

"Please verify your address," the voice instructed.

"Papa-juliett-charlie-zero-zero-seven." Clint had come up with that particular code phrase. Phil had never told him how much he liked it. 

"Please state your order," Eastern European Siri said.

Phil waited. When the phone beeped twice, he punched in the most recent code he knew, hoping it hadn't changed. There was a pause, then another two beeps. He'd gotten through.

"I know it's a shot in the dark, hoping you'll check here, but I thought I'd give it a try," he said. "I'm sorry I didn't wake up soon enough to tell you in person how pleased I am that Natasha got you back. Based on the footage I've seen, you were a huge part of why New York is still standing. I know you well enough to know you've been blaming yourself for what Loki did, but that wasn't you, Clint. You saved lives, millions of them, and I want you to know how proud I am of everything you accomplished. You're a good man, and I'll tell you that as many times as I have to until you believe it. 

"I hope you're taking care of yourself. You...you're important to me." He paused a moment and cleared his throat. "So be safe. You can consider that an order, Specialist. I'll talk to you when you get back, whenever that is."

He punched the code in again and ended the call. He ditched the phone, battery, and scrambled SIM card in three different dumpsters on his way home.

He didn't think about why he'd dialed that specific number instead of any of several others he could have tried. He saw no reason to doubt his understanding of the situation.

**May 15, 2013**

_I don't know why I'm calling this number again; it's not like you can answer. I know, you're undercover. You can't contact me. I don't want to put you at any risk, Clint. I just...I wish I could hear your voice. I wish I knew for sure that you're all right._

_The Director wants me to put together a new team. He's giving me a fancy plane, my choice of team members, and Lola. I'd trade it all to know you and Natasha are safe. I hope you'll be back soon._

 

**August 20, 2013**

_I've got most of the team picked out, and Fury's set me up on one of the old mobile command units--you know, the planes we used back in the 90s. You'd like this one. I'm thinking of calling it the Bus._

_I'm asking May to be the pilot. I'd rather have you, but I know that's not an option. She's the obvious choice--she's almost as good a pilot as you are--but I'm not sure how she's going to respond._

_Fury's insisting I pick out a sniper, but there aren't any out there I feel comfortable with. I might end up with Ward. Garrett was his S.O., and he's good, but I'm not sure how well he'll work with a team. And he's not you._

 

**September 24, 2013**

_The new team's starting to come together. We've got an unexpected addition who's got some rough edges but a lot of potential. She reminds me of you, to the point that I'm concerned about what might happen if the two of you met. If you and Skye are ever in the same room, I fear for our future._

_I suppose at this point it's clear I'm leaving these messages as much or more for me than I am for you. I hope you're taking care of yourself. I haven't watched any of the new season of Dog Cops yet. We'll have to do a marathon when you get back. I'll buy the pizza._

_I miss you._

 

**October 15, 2013**

_We picked up Akela Amador today. She's still alive, Clint. She was captured, not dead. They had her for years, and they did horrible things to her, but she's still alive, and she's safe now._

_I hope you're safe, too. Fury won't tell me how much longer your undercover op is going to last._

**January 7, 2014**

_God, this is a fucking mess. I'm so fucked up. They fucked with my memories, Clint. They did things--Fury shouldn't have done it. Do you know what they did to me? Is that...is that why you've never responded to these messages? Because of what they did?_

_Did you know about TAHITI?_

**April 8, 2014**

_I hope you're someplace safe. Fury finally admitted you haven't been undercover this whole time. Apparently that's something my own brain made up, thanks to TAHITI, and it was more convenient for Fury to play along than to tell me the truth._

_He says you went dark a couple months ago and he doesn't know where you are. I think that's the truth; he has no more reason to lie to me. He said I should consider the possibility that you're Hydra, but I know that's impossible._

_Be careful, Clint. Don't trust anyone. I...be careful._

 

**April 25, 2014**

_I saw Audrey. She didn't see me--I didn't tell her I was alive. When Fitz asked me why, all I could think about was you._

 

**May 13, 2014**

_I've been talking to Andrew. Yeah, it was a surprise to me, too, but I think it's helping, at least a little. I've been having some issues--side effects of TAHITI. Things are still fucked up--not just SHIELD. I'm still fucked up, Clint, and it's getting worse._

_Fury made me the new director, if you can believe it. I hope I can hold it together. There are a lot of people counting on me. I wish you were here._

_Please be okay. I need you to be okay._

 

**September 23, 2014**

_We lost two good agents today. It was my call; I hope it was the right one._

_The side effects from TAHITI are getting worse every week._

_I hope all of it was worth it._

**October 28, 2014**

_I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad you think I'm dead. I wouldn't ever want you to see me like this. I don't want to end up like Garrett. I'm glad you and Natasha are okay, but I can't contact you, not now._

_I told May today she might have to take me out. It took some persuading, but she eventually agreed. If I can't find whatever I need, and soon...._

_I'm sorry I never got to talk to you again. Take care, Clint. Be safe. Be happy._

 

**January 31, 2015**

_The side effects stopped last month, and they haven't come back. Which is good, because...well. Suffice it to say I didn't like the person I was at the end of it. I've waited to see if anything else happens, but I'm back to normal. Or at least I hope I am._

_I don't want to wait any longer to see you. I miss you more than I can say._

_I told Natasha today. She threatened to hit me. I told her she could, next time she sees me--it's not like I don't deserve it. She promised she'd call you, and she told me where I could find you. She says you're doing okay. I'm glad of that, Clint._

_Things are too crazy for me to come there now, but as soon as I can catch a break, I'll be there. I know you'll be angry--you have every right to be--but I have to try._

 

**February 17, 2015**

_I have to make a stop in North Carolina first, but I'll be there tomorrow. I hope you'll forgive me, Clint. I hope..._

_I'll see you soon._  
***

The cuts on Phil's forehead and lip were aching as he made his way up the long, narrow driveway to the house. At least neither Mack nor Skye's insane father had broken anything. Hopefully Clint wouldn't either. 

Phil was more nervous than he could remember being in years. It was as good a time as it would ever be--Skye was out of quarantine, and they'd cut off enough of Hydra's heads that it would take them a long time to recover. SHIELD was in a place where it was possible for him to leave May in charge for a week. On the other hand, they'd lost Trip. And Raina, Skye's father, Agent 33, and Ward were all who knew where doing who knew what; Phil wasn't stupid enough to assume any of them were dead.

He'd made it through taking Trip's things back to his mother. He'd even made it through telling Natasha he was alive. He didn't know how Clint was going to react, but it was time to find out. 

It was much colder here than it had been in North Carolina; there was snow on the ground, the dry kind you only got when the temperature had been below freezing for weeks or months. The barn was a bright purple, but the house, a Victorian, was white with dark trim. There were some animals in the fields--looked like sheep or goats--and as Phil got closer to the house, he saw some other animals. Llamas, maybe. Phil wasn't great with farm animals--he may have lived in a small town when he was younger, but they had definitely lived in town, and that had been fine with him. 

He'd noted the camera at the gate, which had opened silently when he punched in the code Natasha had given him. He knew Clint was watching. He drove slowly, coming to a careful stop a hundred feet from the house. 

Clint was standing on the porch holding a rifle and wearing a flannel shirt. Phil had never seen Clint in a flannel shirt before. It suited him better than he would have imagined--or maybe it was just finally seeing Clint again, solid and clear-eyed and completely himself.

A single shot took out the right headlight, and Phil winced, glad he'd decided it was too cold to take Lola. He didn't _think_ Clint would have shot Lola, but it wasn't outside the realm of possibility. "Out of the car, slowly. Keep your hands where I can see them," Clint said forcefully.

This wasn't good. Clint should have known he was coming; maybe Natasha hadn't been able to reach him. Surely he would have believed her--wouldn't he?

Phil followed the directions. He heard Clint swear when he got out of the car, but when he started to turn around, Clint barked, "On your knees! Hands on your head!" 

He wasn't surprised when he felt the rifle press on the back of his neck, but it took him a few seconds before he understood why Clint was digging the fingers of his free hand into Phil's face and scalp. Phil winced as Clint pulled at the cuts on his face, hoping none of the scabs broke open. The ground was frozen into ruts, and Phil rocked back and forth when Clint tugged at him. It was cold and painful on Phil's knees, but he couldn't complain--it wasn't like he didn't deserve it. "I'm not wearing a mask," he said, his voice even as he could make it. "Didn't Natasha call you? It's me, Clint. I'm not dead, not anymore."

"See, that's a lie," Clint said, his voice coldly furious. "I know, because I saw Phil Coulson's _body._ So either Stark finally got the LMD to work or you're some asshole pretending to be...to be the best man I ever knew. Get up, dickhead. You make one move without me telling you to and I'll blow your fucking brains out."

"I'm sorry, Clint. Fury lied to me, too," Phil said, keeping his hands up. "I told him I'd keep quiet about not being dead, but only if you and Natasha knew the truth. He promised me that you did, and like an idiot, I believed him."

"Another lie," Clint said. "It's like you're not even trying. The real Coulson would have known nothing would stop me from being there when he woke up. Stand up and walk towards the house."

"Do me a favor and talk to Natasha," Phil pleaded, ignoring how moving with his hands up pulled on his bruises and the way the snow had soaked through his pants. "I left you messages at Bertha's. It's me, Clint--I promise."

" _Shut up,"_ Clint snarled, pulling the door open and shoving Phil through it.

Phil kept quiet and allowed Clint to secure his hands to an ancient-looking radiator. Even though Clint took care to cuff each wrist separately and kept Phil's arms apart, he left Phil's legs alone and barely patted him down, removing his service weapon without even ejecting the clip. Phil decided to take that as a good sign. 

He couldn't decide if it was bad or good that Clint wouldn't look him in the eye. Probably bad. He wished he knew what the right move would be, but he was playing blind.

"Lucky, come here," Clint called, and a dog appeared who managed to look both happy and well-cared for despite the fact that he was scarred and missing an eye. "Watch him," Clint instructed, pointing at Phil. "Good boy." The dog promptly sat and fixed his single eye on Phil. It was oddly intimidating, even though the dog's tail was wagging. Phil wondered if Nick had ever met Lucky.

Clint put the safety on the rifle and set it on the coffee table next to Phil's gun before slinging his bow and quiver over his shoulder. It was the first chance Phil had had to really look at him. He had a few day's worth of beard growth, his hair was a little longer than it used to be, and his face was noticeably paler than what Phil could see of his arms. There was a grey thermal undershirt visible under the flannel, and his hearing aids were so small that Phil would never have seen them if he hadn't known where to look. Stark was probably responsible. Clint was glaring in Phil's general direction, but he still wouldn't look at his face. 

"Now's your one chance to explain yourself," Clint said. "Who are you and what the hell are you doing here?"

"It's really me, Clint. I'm here because I wanted to see you, and I needed to apologize," Phil said. "I've known the truth for a few months now, but I didn't contact you right away, and I'm sorry about that. I'd like the chance to explain."

"A few months? It's been two and a half _years_ since Coulson died," Clint said. He glanced up at Phil for a only half a second, but it was long enough for Phil to see the pain in his eyes.

"I was...I was confused when I woke up. I thought you and Natasha were deep undercover," Phil explained, letting a little bit of the desperation he felt bleed into his voice. "Fury promised me you knew the truth, but you're right, I shouldn't have believed him. Please, Clint, find your phone and call Natasha. I'm not lying. I promise I'm not some sort of zombie or LMD. It's really me."

The twitch in Clint's eyebrow let Phil know his guess had been correct--it wasn't that Natasha hadn't called; Clint just didn't know (or more likely didn't care) where his cell phone was. Natasha used burners almost exclusively, especially when it came to sensitive matters like a not-so-dead ex-handler, although she'd usually answer a personal call from someone she trusted. Clint, on the other hand, often forgot he owned a cell phone--or he misplaced it, or he forgot to put his hearing aids in (sometimes deliberately).

"Did you check the couch cushions and under the bed?" Phil asked. "It's probably either there or in the granola with your burners. She'd even answer the landline if it was you calling; you know all of her codes."

Clint darted a glance at the 1980s era Princess phone hanging from the wall in the kitchen. He turned away and took a few steps before stopping, his head down. "Burners are in the chia seeds now," he muttered. "Granola got buggy." He paused a moment and added, "I'm guessing you could get out of those cuffs. If you're who you say you are, you'll stay put."

"I will," Phil said after a careful breath in and out. "I promise."

Clint nodded once and left the room.

Phil could hear a cupboard door opening a few minutes later, followed by the soft murmur of Clint's voice. It wasn't loud enough to work out what he might be saying. "I hope he's talking to Natasha and not Stark," he said to Lucky. The dog woofed softly and wagged his tail.

Clint's voice stopped, and Phil didn't hear him say anything else for several minutes. He was wondering if he should speak up when Clint walked back into the room. His eyes were red, and his fingers were clenched tightly around the phone. He was staring directly at Phil, raw emotion all over his face.

"You _asshole,"_ Clint said, squatting down to unlock the cuffs, never taking his eyes off Phil. His hands were shaking; it took him three tries to get the right cuff unlocked. Clint's hands _never_ shook. "You fucking asshole, how could you..." he said, sinking onto his knees between Phil's legs. "I never would have left; you should have _known_ that. How could you not have known that?" 

"You're right; I should have," Phil said softly. He took the keys from Clint and unlocked the second cuff, then put his hand on Clint's shoulder and squeezed. "I'm sorry, Clint."

Clint looked at him for a long moment, his eyes bright with unshed tears, and fell into Phil's arms. 

Phil had held Clint before--when he was bleeding out, when he was drugged, once when he'd woken Phil with his screams in a safe house after a particularly bad op--but never like this. Clint's face was buried in Phil's shoulder, his arms clutching Phil so tightly he could barely breathe. "Missed you so much," Clint said.

"I missed you, too," Phil said. "I'm sorry, Clint. God, I missed you too." Clint sniffed, loosening his grip enough for Phil to take a deep breath. 

Then he took another, closing his eyes and inhaling slowly, because Clint smelled _fantastic._

The scent was familiar on the surface--Clint hadn't changed which soap and deodorant he used, and Phil had been with him after he'd spent long hours in a hot sniper's nest often enough that the smell of Clint's sweat was more comforting than offensive--but there were notes in it that Phil had never noticed before. Deep, delicious notes that reminded Phil of coming inside from shoveling the driveway when he was a kid and finding his mother's special hot chocolate waiting for him. The scent made his dick sit up and take notice in a way it hadn't since he was a teenager.

Streiten had told him, back when they realized the pills Phil had been taking to mask his status since his Ranger days no longer worked, that he might notice some changes in his libido. This must be what he'd meant.

"You mean during heat?" Phil had asked him, hiding how nervous the whole idea made him. He hadn't had a heat since he was nineteen.

"Then, yes, but it's fairly common for omegas and alphas on the pill to experience some decreased libido and erectile dysfunction," Streiten said, as matter of fact as he'd been when he told Phil what his blood pressure was (124/76, "Well within the normal range."). "I've been told by some patients that they felt quite different when they stopped taking it."

"I see," Phil had said. "I'd prefer to go back on it. I don't understand why it doesn't work anymore."

"Neither do we," Streiten had said, but of course it had to have been the GH-325. Apparently Kree blood was more powerful than pharmaceutical grade hormones. 

Phil hadn't noticed much of a difference until now, although it had clarified a few things. He'd been able to tell that Camilla Reyes was no more attracted to him than he was to her, which should have helped him buy a clue faster. He'd confirmed that his feelings about Audrey were more platonic than romantic. Neither of the realizations had disappointed him or even surprised him much. 

Early on, Melinda had offered to go off her regimen "if you want any help with your heats." He'd had no difficulty turning her down, and the heats themselves had been nothing more than an annoyance. His life hadn't changed much; he'd figured he was too old for it to matter. But apparently his age wasn't an issue when presented with the right partner. 

He'd always known he was attracted to Clint, but the thing about alpha and omega biology they'd taught him in high school sex ed that he'd never quite believed seemed to actually to be true. The longer they remained in each other's embrace, the more clear it was that the two of them were not just attracted to each other--Phil could smell that on Clint as easily as he could distinguish the scent of his soap--they fit together on a level Phil couldn't have articulated if he'd tried. 

He couldn't resist the urge to brush his lips over Clint's hair. He didn't think Clint would be able to feel it, but Clint immediately lifted his head.

"Phil?" Clint's voice was soft and uncertain; the vulnerability on his face made Phil's chest ache. 

He didn't say anything, just cupped Clint's face in his hand and gently rubbed his thumb over Clint's cheekbone. Clint covered Phil's hand with his own, turning to kiss the palm, tongue flicking out to taste Phil's skin. 

Phil closed his eyes at the sensation. When he opened them again, Clint was looking at him again, but this time the uncertainty was mixed with hope. Phil urged him closer with his hand. Clint licked his lips, and Phil couldn't wait any longer.

Just because Clint was attracted to him didn't mean he'd want to act on it, so Phil took things slowly. He brushed his lips gently over Clint's, mouth closed and soft, then pulled back. Clint kissed him back in much the same way, stopping after a few seconds to look at him.

"Phil," he said. His gaze was steady, but his voice was deep and throaty. "This is what you want? Tell me you want this."

"I want this," Phil said. "I want you." He slid his hand around to the back of Clint's head.

Clint nodded once and kissed Phil again--deeply, comprehensively, passionately. Despite the awkward angle, it was one of the best kisses of Phil's life, and it was followed by more: deep kisses; soft, closed-mouth kisses; wet kisses along his jaw; lips trailing down his neck; an open mouth against his collarbone. Phil lost a little time, lost himself in the taste and feel and scent of Clint, until the radiator behind him let out a godawful clank and startled them both. By this point Clint's shirt was unbuttoned and Phil's tie was gone. Phil was hard, and his boxers were damp both front and back. Clint's lips were red and slick, and both of them were breathing heavily.

"Hey," Clint said with a crooked smile. 

"Hey," Phil answered, smiling back. 

"You, uh, you want to move this somewhere else?" Clint asked, scratching the back of his neck.

"Yes," Phil said, nodding and standing up. "Bedroom? Or the couch?"

"Bedroom," Clint said, taking his hand and pulling him quickly down the hall like he was afraid Phil would change his mind. They went upstairs, and Clint shut the door behind them, keeping Lucky out.

They stood there staring at each other for a second before Clint stepped into Phil's space and kissed him again. They moved towards the bed, stopping only to kick off their shoes and lose both of Clint's shirts and Phil's button-down. Phil pushed Clint down onto the bed and straddled him, more aroused than he'd been in years, maybe decades. He nuzzled Clint's neck, his hands gripping the strong muscles of Clint's back. Clint moaned, his hands scrabbling at Phil's undershirt. Phil sat back just enough to pull it off and toss it to the side, intent on feeling Clint's skin against his own, but Clint jerked away suddenly.

"What's wrong?" Phil asked, realizing as he said it that Clint's hands were bracketing the scar on his chest, his pinky lightly moving over the bruises Cal and Mack had left. "Clint, it's okay--I'm sorry; I should have..." _What, warned him?_ he thought. 

"Does it hurt?" Clint asked tightly. 

"No," Phil said, drawing Clint's chin up so he could see his eyes. "The scar doesn't hurt. The bruises are a little sore, but nothing to worry about."

"And you're...you're okay?" Clint asked. His voice was shaking, but his hands were steady as they traced around the scar. He reached back to trace the one on Phil's back, swallowing hard as he felt how far it extended.

"I'm fine, Clint. I promise," Phil said, willing Clint to believe him.

"You said you were fucked up," Clint said, almost pleading now.

"I...it's a long story, but I really am fine now," Phil said. "You listened to my messages?"

"Had to, after I talked to Nat," Clint said. 

"Do you want to stop?" Phil asked, hoping the answer was no. 

Clint framed Phil's face with his hands and studied him for a moment, then shook his head. "You'll tell me later?"

Phil nodded. "I'm done keeping secrets from you." At that moment he would have spilled every classified operation, up to and including Theta Protocol, to keep Clint in his arms.

Clint rested his forehead against Phil's for another moment, then bent to kiss Phil's chest above the scar. He moved his hands to Phil's waist, unbuckling Phil's belt and taking it out of the loops. Phil took a deep breath as Clint opened his fly and very lightly traced the outline of his cock with his fingers.

" _Fuck,"_ Phil gasped, fumbling for Clint's belt. "Tell me you have condoms, Clint, _please."_

"I have condoms," Clint said, scooting back until he could reach the bedside table. "Condoms and lube both," he added, throwing them onto the bed with a triumphant expression that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I know I'm not in heat, but I'm pretty sure we won't need the lube," Phil said, desperate to get his hands back on Clint but aware there was something important he needed to figure out. 

Clint went still for a moment. "We would if...forget it." He reached for Phil again, but Phil caught his hands. 

"If what?" he asked. "What do you want?"

"I was kind of hoping you'd fuck me," Clint said, looking down, his cheeks turning from pink to red. 

"What?" Phil said intelligently. "You want--" He cut himself off in favor of throwing Clint onto his back on the bed and kissing him. " _Yes,_ of course we can do that, Jesus, I never thought...." He silently cursed the societal expectations he'd apparently internalized more than he'd realized.

"Okay, okay," Clint said, laughing into Phil's mouth. "C'mon, pants off." He wriggled out from under Phil and stripped. 

Phil stared, his mouth falling open at the sight of Clint's dick, almost fully erect, with just a little extra girth at the base. 

"You too," Clint said, pulling at his boxers. 

"Right, sorry," Phil said breathlessly, getting rid of the rest of his clothes. 

He fumbled a bit when Clint handed him the lube, but it didn't take long before Clint was groaning, "I'm ready, God, Phil, please, I need you in me." He flipped onto his hands and knees as soon as Phil withdrew his fingers.

It was a gorgeous sight--Clint's ass was even better than he'd dreamed--but it wasn't what Phil wanted. "Can we--I want to see your face," he said. 

"Oh," Clint said. "Oh, yeah, that's--like this?" he asked, turning onto his back again. He bent his knees and handed Phil the condom. Without thinking about it, Phil swiped behind him and spread the slick over his erection before rolling the condom down and adding more lube. 

"Fuck," Clint moaned, "fuck, Phil, that was so hot, please, don't make me wait any more." He grabbed under his thighs and pulled them wide.

"I've got you," Phil said hoarsely. He pushed in as slowly as he could, wanting to give both of them time to adjust. Clint wrapped his legs around Phil and lifted his hips until they rested on Phil's thighs. His hands grasped Phil's ass, urging him on until he was buried to the hilt in Clint. As Phil started fucking Clint in earnest, Clint bent his body until he was practically bent in half. He somehow managed to get a couple of long fingers between Phil's cheeks just enough to brush against Phil's hole. 

Phil shuddered, caught between the sensations overwhelming him. He fucked Clint harder, until Clint's shoulders were jammed up against the headboard, knocking it rhythmically against the wall. Between that, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, and the way the two of them were moaning, Phil figured it was a good thing Clint lived a mile from his nearest neighbor. Then Clint shifted his hips, curled up even more, and managed to get a fingertip into Phil's hole. Phil barely held it together enough to clumsily get his hand around Clint's dick; a few strokes later Clint cried out and came. Phil followed pretty much immediately, feeling like his entire body was spilling into Clint's.

It took him a minute to come back to himself enough to carefully pull out and then flop over on his back, still holding the condom in place. A minute after that, he disposed of the condom and found something to clean them both up with, along with spare sheets. "I'll help you change the sheets," he said, because the words "wet spot" didn't really do justice to the condition of the bed.

"No, come on," Clint said, "we don't need to, see?" He took a flannel pillowcase out of Phil's hands and spread it over the mess. It was classic Clint; Phil couldn't help smiling at him. "Come on, it's getting cold in here." 

Phil shrugged and got back into bed, because it was cold in Clint's bedroom, Clint himself was delightfully warm, and he wanted to.

Phil didn't do things purely because he wanted to very often, but he had a feeling that might be changing. Maybe it was just that he hadn't wanted anything this much in a very long time. He and Clint fit themselves together on the bed as easily as a child's puzzle, and after Clint took out his hearing aids, they both fell asleep.  
***  
Phil woke an hour or so later. Clint was out like a light next to him, breathing slow and deep, his face and body completely relaxed. God, he was beautiful. Phil watched him for a moment before he carefully got out of bed. He'd never seen Clint like this--even on those rare occasions when he'd fallen asleep on the couches in Phil's office or his apartment, Clint had always maintained a certain level of situational awareness; that he'd slept at all in Phil's presence had been a humbling sign of trust. Maybe it was just because Clint was in his own home, but Phil was moved to his core that Clint trusted him enough to sleep so deeply.

It was still cold in the room, so Phil scrambled quickly for his clothing. He grimaced at the tacky feel of his boxers, only considering borrowing a pair of Clint's once he'd gotten his pants on. Clint never stirred, not even when Phil opened the door and Lucky entered and jumped onto the bed. 

It was cold in the house, but it was frigid outside. Phil walked quickly to the car, regretting the fact that his winter coat and gloves were still in the back seat. He was about to hit the release for the trunk, intent on grabbing his gear and his phone and heading back to the house, when he noticed the light flashing on the dashboard, indicating someone had left him a priority message. 

He hesitated for a moment, but the car was equipped with excellent seat warmers, and Phil's ass was still damp enough from his previous activities that it was close to soaking through his pants. Phil got in and started the engine. Once he'd thawed out, he opened the link and played the message.

Sam Koenig's face showed up--Phil could tell it was Sam, rather than Billy, because he was wearing his Theta Protocol lanyard. "I'm sorry, sir; I know you didn't want to be disturbed, but there's been a hiccup with the funding for the engine repairs." Phil sighed and cut off the message; it would be easiest just to call Sam back and deal with it immediately.

Twenty minutes later, after putting out a few other fires, Phil contacted  
the base to check in. He was wrapping up with May when he saw Clint approaching in the rearview mirror, his shoulders set and a resigned expression on his face that Phil was determined to get rid of ASAP. Phil pointed at the passenger door and signed, "Get in," as he came up to the window. He'd tried to keep what fluency he had in ASL over the past two years, but he felt almost like a beginner again. 

"I've got to go, May," he said as Clint got into the car. 

"Say hi to Barton for me," she answered. 

"You can say hi to me yourself," Clint interjected, sticking his head into the frame with Phil's. 

"Nah, it'll be more fun coming from him," she said, just a hint of a smirk on her face. "Enjoy your vacation, Director."

"Oh, I am," Phil replied serenely. "Take care of everyone, May." By which he meant take care of Skye, but May already knew that.

She didn't reply, just gave him a nod and disconnected.  
***  
"So," Clint said after a few seconds, "Director Coulson. Do you need to head back to your secret hideout?"

Phil shook his head. "May can handle things perfectly well without me for a few days."

"How'd you get her out of records? Or was she there until, you know..." Clint squiggled his fingers like some sort of undersea creature.

"Until Hydra?" Phil said. "No, she joined my team early on. The way she tells it, she picked my team. Fury told her to keep an eye on me in case things went sideways. Which they did."

"But you're better now," Clint said, studying him. 

"I am," Phil said. "Much better, now that I'm here with you."

"I kind of thought you'd left already when I woke up," Clint said, looking down. "I'm glad you're still here."

"I wouldn't leave without telling you, Clint," Phil said, taking his hand. "I'm sorry--I wanted to get my gear and come right back, but then my guy heading up a thing called--"

"It's fine," Clint interrupted. It didn't sound like it was fine, but he didn't seem like he was ready to talk about it, so Phil let it go. "Why don't you pull the car up closer and we'll bring your gear inside. You hungry yet? I've got some stew in the freezer, or if you want we could drive into town."

"I doubt anything in town could come close to your stew," Phil said, his mouth watering in anticipation. Clint, like Phil, wasn't known for the variety of his cooking, but what he did cook was always hearty and delicious. His stew was one of Phil's favorites. "I've missed it. Your cooking, I mean."

"If you stick around like you said, I'll whip up some of that chicken casserole you always liked, as long as you promise me all the grilled cheese I can eat," Clint said.

"You've got a deal," Phil said. "I've got a new recipe for kale that's pretty good, if you're interested."

"Not sure they carry kale at the market in town, Phil," Clint said, smirking at him. "We could get some spinach, though."

"Spinach works," Phil said, smiling back. 

Once they got inside, Clint said, "I'll get the stew going if you want to hit the shower."

Phil would have preferred to shower with Clint, but he nodded and headed up the stairs. When he got out, Phil found new sheets on the bed and a sweatshirt, flannel pajama pants, and a pair of thick, soft wool socks sitting on top. "I, uh, I wasn't sure what you'd brought," Clint said when Phil came down to the kitchen. "I know it's a little drafty in here, so. I emptied out a drawer for you, and there's a couple hangers in the closet for your suits. I figured, you know, if you're staying for a few days, might as well be able to unpack."

"Thank you," Phil said, coming up behind Clint and putting his arms around Clint's waist. "Mmm, smells great," he added, nuzzling the back of Clint's neck.

"I can't tell if you mean me or the stew," Clint said hesitantly.

"Both," Phil said. "The stew I knew about, but I never imagined you'd smell this delicious."

Clint snorted, the tips of his ears turning red. "Come on, dinner's ready. You can tell me more about how good I smell after we eat."

"You've got a deal," Phil said, kissing his cheek.  
***  
Once they'd eaten, Phil did the dishes while Clint showered. When he came out, he took Phil's hand and led him into the living room. He built up the fire, then sat next to Phil on the couch. "We should talk," he said.

"That's a good idea," Phil agreed, but he wasn't sure where to start. 

Apparently Clint wasn't either, because none of them said anything for a few seconds. Then Clint said, "Is it because you're going into heat? Is that why you're staying? Because, okay, I can do that--I just, I need to know, okay?"

"What?" Phil said, flummoxed.

"It...I can't say it'll be easy, but if that's what you need--I mean, you already know I'm attracted to you, so that part's not difficult--"

"Clint," Phil said, holding his hand up. He was hurt and a little angry at Clint's assumption. "What the hell are you talking about? Is that what you think this is? You think it's just because you're an alpha?"

Clint shrugged, looking down. "You went off your hormones before you came to see me," he said. "I'm not part of SHIELD anymore, and you've known me a long time, so there's a level of trust; I get that. I can do that for you. If that's what you want."

Phil gaped at him a moment. "You think I want a heat-buddy?" he asked. "Is that what you want? No strings, just sex?" He didn't try to keep what he felt out of his voice, and Clint looked up, startled.

"What?" he said. "No, that's not what--look, I'm just trying to tell you I understand if that's all this is. It'll be enough for me."

"Jesus," Phil muttered, shaking his head. "That's not what I want, okay?" he said, waiting for Clint to meet his eyes. "And for the record, me wanting you has nothing to do with our dynamics. I've wanted you since the day I met you, and I had no idea you were an alpha until earlier today."

"I'm confused," Clint said, his brow furrowed. "You never--I could never tell, before today."

"Yeah, I'm getting that," Phil said. He took a breath. "Let's start with this. I've been off hormones since they shot me full of alien blood to bring me back to life. I never knew you were an alpha, not that it would have made a difference. I've wanted you for years--I can only guess the pills made it easier for both of us to hide our attraction--but that's not all this is." 

He paused and swallowed past the frog in his throat. "I care about you, Clint. You mean a lot to me, more than I ever let you know, and after everything that's happened, I couldn't live with myself if I didn't tell you. That's why I came here--that, and to apologize."

Clint didn't say anything, just stared at him. Phil didn't know how to parse it all; it made his chest hurt. Just because he felt more for Clint than attraction didn't mean it was different for Clint, no matter how much he wanted it to be. He squared his shoulders and faced Clint. "If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll leave. I'm sure I can get a room at a motel; I'll go get dressed."

"Wait, no, you don't--" Clint grabbed his arm. "I don't understand. You never looked twice at me. You had Audrey; you loved her." 

"I cared about Audrey, but I wasn't in love with her. Not...not the way she deserved," Phil said. He should have told her how he felt about Clint, but he hadn't been able to face it. He couldn't even tell Clint. He was such a coward. 

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" Clint asked. 

"There were frat regs, and I was your handler, and I never thought--" The excuses sounded even worse out loud than they had in his head.

"You should have," Clint said. He shook his head and looked away. "You sure it's not just that you have the hots for me, Coulson? I know this is a fine piece of ass; I couldn't blame you if all you wanted was to tap it."

"Don't do that," Phil said. "Please, Clint--I know I've lied to you, and I know you're angry, but please don't make light of this. Even if it never happens again, I'll remember being with you today for the rest of my life."

"You think I won't?" Clint asked. "You think I don't--I care for you, too, asshole. I wouldn't be so pissed at you if I didn't. And for the record, I have wanted you since the day we met, too."

"Okay," Phil said, feeling like he could breathe again. "Good." 

"Good," Clint agreed. They looked at each other for a moment. "God, we could have done this years ago," Clint said, shaking his head. 

"It certainly would have made that mission in Minsk more fun," Phil said, cracking a smile. 

Clint laughed, and just like that, the tension in the room dissipated. Phil suspected there was a little more goofiness to his smile than there usually was, but he couldn't bring himself to care, not with Clint smiling right back at him. 

"Well, now that we've got that cleared up," Clint said, leaning over to kiss him. He drew back much sooner than Phil would have liked, a slight frown on his face. "Wait, 'alien blood'? Phil--what happened? How is it that you're alive? Tell me."

Phil leaned his head back against the couch cushion, closed his eyes, and sighed. "It's classified, and it's a long story."

"I hear you're here all week," Clint said, bumping his shoulder. "Seriously, Phil--it's been almost three years. I want to hear it, classified or not."

"And I want to tell you, classified or not," Phil said without opening his eyes. "But I want to know what's been going on with you, too."

"And I'll tell you, I promise," Clint said, fingers brushing at Phil's hairline. "Tomorrow."

"Okay," Phil said. He took a slow breath and let it out. "I...some of what they did affected my memory. I'm still not sure of everything that happened."

Clint pulled Phil close, kissing his temple. "I'm sorry. But also not, because you're _here."_

Phil brought Clint's hand to his lips. "Have you ever heard of Project TAHITI?" When Clint shook his head, Phil took another breath and started to explain.  
***  
Phil woke briefly when Clint got up for some presumably farm-related task that had to be done before sunrise, but he fell back asleep before he'd really registered what was happening. It made for a moment of confusion when he woke again later and found Lucky in the bed next to him instead of Clint, but he noticed the wonderful smells of coffee and bacon and all was right with the world again. 

He considered getting dressed before going out to the kitchen, but he muttered "vacation" under his breath and threw one of Clint's sweaters on top of his t-shirt instead. He grinned at himself in the mirror before he brushed his teeth. The guy in the mirror looked very happy and very satisfied. He also had a couple of hickeys and some fairly extensive beard burn.

They'd only had sex a couple of times, but it had been better than the majority of Phil's past experiences. He couldn't imagine what it was going to be like when he was in heat. If Clint even wanted that.

When Phil walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, he once again wrapped his arms around Clint from behind and nuzzled his neck. "Mmm, smells delicious."

Clint snorted and turned in his arms. "You planning on saying that every time?"

"Maybe," Phil said, leaning in to kiss him. "Morning."

"Morning," Clint said, smiling at him. "Although it won't be for much longer. I was wondering if you were ever gonna wake up." 

"I'm on vacation," Phil said. "It's the first one I've taken in years, and I'm going to enjoy every minute of it. Ooh, are those pancakes?"

Clint laughed. "Yes, and if you wouldn't mind sticking the syrup in the microwave for about twenty seconds, we can eat."

"Yes, sir," Phil said, avoiding the spatula when Clint tried (not very hard) to swat him with it. 

Clint's pancakes had always been decent, but Phil groaned aloud when he took his first bite that morning. When he looked up, Clint was smirking at him. "I take it you like the new recipe?"

"They're amazing," Phil said between bites, because they were light, fluffy perfection, drizzled with butter and maple syrup. 

"I'm glad you approve," Clint said, a soft smile on his face.

"Best vacation ever," Phil told him.  
***  
They walked around the farm after they ate. Clint said he wanted to check on one of the goats. "His name is Wilbur," he told Phil, "and he's an escape artist."

"Does he do it to escape medical treatment?" Phil asked. "Because that sounds like karma."

Clint laughed. "Yeah, maybe." 

Wilbur, along with all the other animals, was just where he was supposed to be. Phil was unsurprised to find out all of them had names, although Clint insisted that the former owner's children had named them all. "Well, except for a few," he admitted when they got to the sheep. "That one's Maria, because she bosses the rest of them around." 

"I'll be sure to let her know," Phil said, hiding a smile. 

"Fuck you, Coulson," Clint said, laughing and putting him in a headlock.

"I live in hope," Phil said.

Clint's arms loosened and he stepped back. "Did you..." Clint trailed off, tugging at his ear.

"Did I what?" Phil asked. He took a glove off and put his hand on Clint's cheek, wondering what had caused the change in mood.

"Nothing," Clint said, looking down. "Forget it. Come on, let's go back to the house and you won't have to wait any more."

"Clint," Phil said. 

After a sigh, Clint met his eyes briefly. "It's stupid. I know it's something you want; of course it is. I just...I haven't done it before. Not with a guy." He shrugged. "I want it to be good for you."

"It will be," Phil said, stroking his thumb over Clint's cheekbone. "If it's you, it will be."

"Don't give me that bullshit," Clint said, frowning. "Alphas and omegas can still have crappy sex."

Phil smiled. "Okay, you're right. Anyone can have crappy sex. Maybe it will be crappy, although I sincerely doubt that. But I'll take crappy sex with you over great sex with anyone else." 

Clint didn't say anything, but the corner of his mouth lifted and his shoulders relaxed. "C'mere," Phil said, putting his arms around Clint's shoulders and pulling him close. They held each other, standing in the middle of a snow-covered field, being watched by goats, for long enough that it could have felt awkward. It never did.  
***  
When they got back inside, Clint led him upstairs to the bedroom again. He pulled his sweater off and started unbuttoning his shirt, but something still wasn't right. Phil walked up to him into his space, and put his hand over Clint's. "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with," he said. "Not now. Not ever. We don't have to have any kind of sex. We can go sit on the couch and talk."

"Nah, it's stupid," Clint said, scratching the back of his neck. 

"It's not," Phil said. "Whatever it is that's got you all twisted up, I know for a fact it's not stupid."

"Is that what you know?" Clint asked, just a little bitter.

"Clint, please," Phil said, squeezing his hands. "Tell me what's wrong."

Clint sighed and dropped heavily onto the bed. "Come here?" he asked, laying on his side and patting the mattress next to him. 

Phil got on the bed. Clint immediately rolled closer and rested his head on Phil's chest. Phil nuzzled his jawline and took an ostentatious sniff. "Still delicious," he said, feeling triumphant when Clint chuckled in response. He brushed his lips against the same spot and waited, holding Clint loosely but securely in his arms.

"My mom was an omega, and my dad was an alpha," Clint said after a long moment. His voice was quiet and hesitant as he continued. "I know you've read my file, so you probably know that story, but there were a few omegas at Carson's, too, and I was older when... Anyway. None of 'em were guys, but that's not...a couple of them were set up okay, but there was one, Amy, who didn't have anyone. She was just a couple years older than me--Barney's age--and when she went into heat the first time, it got pretty ugly. She and I were friends before that, but after, she stayed away. She was scared of me--me, a scrawny eleven year old whose voice hadn't even started to change yet. Because I was an alpha."

"What happened to her?" Phil asked carefully. 

Clint shrugged. "I don't know. She disappeared one night, just before she was due to start another heat. I like to think that she found someone who would be good to her, but I didn't have a clue what that would look like."

"I'm guessing you haven't had many opportunities to see something like that since then, either," Phil said after considering carefully. 

Clint snorted. "Not so much, no." He rolled his shoulders and let his head rest more heavily on Phil's chest. Phil kissed the top of his head and ran his fingers through Clint's hair. 

"You know, when I joined up, the first thing I did was go to medical and get checked out so I could get my 'scrip. Those policies were a big part of the appeal of SHIELD. Felt a lot safer, knowing I was on the real deal, not what I could pick up on the street." Clint leaned back until he could meet Phil's eyes. 

Phil hummed in response, continuing to run his fingers through Clint's thick, soft hair. He'd always suspected Clint had used illegal hormones before SHIELD, just as he'd suspected Clint wasn't a beta, but SHIELD was very serious about keeping its employees' designations confidential, and he'd never wanted to use his power over Clint to break that confidence. 

"What's it like?" Clint asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Heat?" Phil asked. Clint nodded. "It's...when I first started, it scared the crap out of me," he admitted. "I was already horny all the time--I was a teenage boy, you know?"

"Oh, I do," Clint said, grinning. 

Phil snorted. "I bet you were a menace, with those arms of yours, not to mention your eyes."

Clint shrugged. "Not really. Mostly just jerked off a lot."

"Yeah, me too," Phil said. He lifted Clint's hand and kissed his fingers. "There was so much I was unsure of back then. I was probably just as relieved to start on the pill as you were."

"And now?" Clint asked.

It was Phil's time to shrug. "It's not a big deal. I get cramps before, and my libido goes up during, but it's nothing I can't handle. I have to deal with the aftermath, but it doesn't affect me any more than ovulation and periods affect a beta woman, I don't think. People make it out to be this huge thing, especially with male omegas, but it's not, not really." He paused and kissed Clint's fingers again. "I think it could be good with you, though. I think we'd both enjoy it, if that's something you'd be interested in. You wouldn't have to fuck me--it would be good to be with you, that's all."

"I think I'd like that," Clint said, almost shy. "With you."

"We'll have to figure out a way to make it happen," Phil said, feeling like his heart was going to flutter out of his chest. He twisted so that he was facing Clint, so that he could kiss Clint and pull their bodies together. 

Clint kissed him back eagerly, reaching for Phil's belt. "The condoms are on your side, in the top drawer," he said.

"Oh, look, there's the lube, too," Phil said, tossing it onto the bed with a condom. He paused and studied Clint for a moment. "Get yourself ready to ride me, Barton."

"Yes, sir," Clint said happily. Phil held back a sigh of relief that he'd managed to avoid any more mine fields.  
***  
Phil dozed, content to lie in Clint's arms and listen to his slow breaths. He was about to get back in bed after reluctantly extricating himself to go to the bathroom when he heard the faint sound of a car outside. He slipped out of the bathroom and picked up his gun, glancing out the window. Whoever it was had already made it past the gate, parking their blue SUV about a hundred feet away from the house. 

He walked silently down the stairs, wondering where Lucky might be. He had a doggie door and run of the property, so he could be anywhere. He hadn't barked when Phil had shown up, so it didn't necessarily mean anything that he wasn't barking now. There was a video surveillance screen at the foot of the stairs. In it he could see a woman walking toward the house, the shotgun in her hands pointed at the ground.

He waited until she got to the door. "Put it down," he said, gun to her head. 

She didn't argue or make a fuss, but as soon as he'd kicked the shotgun away, she asked, "Where is he? If you hurt him, there are some people out there who will take great pleasure in hurting you more."

It was possible that Phil might have over-reacted. "Nobody's hurting anyone," he said, lowering his weapon. "Who are you?"

"Who the hell are _you?"_ She turned toward him. "No. No--you're _dead."_ She stepped back, eyes wide in disbelief.

Lucky chose that moment to come barrel his way between them, tail wagging ecstatically as he greeted the woman. She crouched down and took his face between her hands, ignoring his attempts to lick her. "Get Clint," she told him. 

Lucky barked once and ran up the stairs. Phil stood there in Clint's (flannel, purple plaid) pajama pants, the only thing he was wearing. The woman was staring at the scar on his chest. She obviously knew who he was, which put her one up on him. Also, unlike him, she was completely dressed. 

He stood there, flatfooted, as they stared at each other. Phil opened his mouth, unsure what to say--the "rumors of my death" speech didn't seem like it would work coming from someone who was half-naked, barefoot, and holding a gun. 

"Stand down, Phil; she's a friend," Clint called out. He was down the stairs and taking the gun from Phil's hand before he finished the sentence. He cleared the chamber and put the safety on before setting it on the table near the door. "Hey, Laura," he said, smiling at her sheepishly before kissing her cheek. "Wasn't expecting you today; is everything all right?"

"Is-- _that's_ what you're going with?" she asked, looking back and forth between Clint (who had bedhead and wore only his boxer briefs; it was ridiculously appealing) and Phil. "What the fuck, Clint?"

"I'll be back in a moment," Phil said, fleeing up the stairs. 

"Wait, Phil--" Clint called out after him, but Phil ignored it, as he did the murmur of conversation that he could hear through the open door of the bedroom. He pulled his jeans and a sweater out of the drawer Clint had cleared for him and got dressed, grabbing Clint's clothes off the floor. By the time he got back downstairs, the woman--Laura, apparently--was sitting at the kitchen table while Clint busied himself with the coffee machine. 

Neither his Glock nor Laura's shotgun were visible. Phil decided not to worry about that.

"Here," Phil said, handing Clint his clothes. 

"Thanks," Clint said, his expression somewhere between a grimace and a smile. "I was starting to get a little chilly."

Laura snorted. "So, Agent Phil Coulson of SHIELD," she said, looking up at him. "You're not dead."

"I was, for a while," he said. He had a feeling he was going to be apologizing for that for the rest of his life. "I got better."

"Phil, this is Laura Francis," Clint said as he pulled his jeans up over his hips. Phil refused to let himself be distracted by the sight. "She sold me the farm a couple years back, although she still has a stake in the place."

"It's nice to meet you," Phil said, holding out his hand. "Sorry about earlier. I saw you coming up the drive with the gun and I overreacted. Hazard of the job." He studied her while she shook his hand. She was in her late thirties, he thought, with long dark hair and dark eyes. She wore a bulky sweater that was similar to Clint's--probably also made with wool from the farm, like the one he'd loaned Phil. 

She shrugged. "I saw your car and got nervous. Guess we both overreacted."

"Neither one of you did," Clint said, looking at the two of them seriously. "This is my fault. Phil, I should have told you about Laura last night, and I should have remembered Laura might be coming by today." He paused a moment before his eyes widened. "Shit, the kids--where are they?"

"They're in the car; they know the drill," Laura said, standing up from the table. "I'll go get them, now that you're no longer walking around in your underpants."

 _Kids?_ Phil sat down and pinched the bridge of his nose. Clint had mentioned the former owner had children, but he'd never expected that Clint actually knew them.

"You okay?" Clint asked, sitting next to him and taking his hand. "You want some coffee?"

"Sure," Phil said after a moment. Coffee was always a good idea. 

Before Clint could do more than take another mug out of the cupboard, what sounded like a herd of elephants came pounding across the porch and into the house. 

"Uncle Clint! Where are you, Uncle Clint?" This from a girl of five or six, at Phil's best guess, who ran straight up to Clint and jumped into his arms with a shriek of glee. 

"I'm right here, sweetheart!" he said, twirling her around before reaching one arm out to snag a boy around the waist and kiss the top of his head. The boy looked at least a couple of years older than his sister. "Where do you think you're going, buddy?"

"I have to pee!" the boy said, giggling. 

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Clint asked him, giving him a squeeze before letting him go.

"Who are you?" the girl asked, just as Laura walked in carrying yet another boy, this one somewhere between one and three years of age. Probably. Phil wasn't much better at judging children's ages than he was identifying farm animals.

"This is Phil," Clint said, holding the girl securely in his arms. "He's...he's a really good friend of mine. My best friend."

"I thought your best friend was Auntie Nat," the girl said accusingly. So Natasha was family to these kids as well? 

"Auntie Nat is my best woman friend," Clint said, looking at Phil with what he could recognize as Clint's _I'm really afraid I'm fucking this up but I don't want anyone to know_ look. "Phil is my best man friend."

Phil decided it was time to step in and pretend he could handle it all. "Can I tell you a secret?" he asked the girl in a stage whisper.

The girl nodded eagerly. 

"I'm not just your uncle Clint's friend, I'm his boyfriend."

The girl's eyes widened, and she looked to Clint for verification.

"It's true, honey," Clint said. He smiled at Phil, open and happy, and Phil smiled back. 

"Are you gonna get married?" the girl asked. 

Clint blushed. It was adorable, especially when you combined it with the fact that he was holding a child. "Maybe someday, sweetie. Phil, this is Lila. Cooper's in the bathroom, and--hey, look at you, buddy!" Clint crouched down to greet the younger boy, who had been set down on the floor and was now moving determinedly towards him. Clint scooped him up with his free arm, kissing his cheek.

"Hi," the boy said, then buried his face in Clint's chest.

"This is Nathaniel Clinton Francis," Clint said proudly, "named after the two people who were there when he was born. Well, besides his mom, of course."

"You and Natasha?" Phil asked. He really wasn't sure how to take all of this. Surely Clint wouldn't have started something with him if he were involved with Laura, but the way he was acting with the children--he just didn't know what to make of it.

"Nate decided to come a few weeks early, in the middle of a blizzard," Laura said. "Nat had come out for a visit. She and Clint got me to the hospital--or to the parking lot, anyway. I had the baby in the backseat of Clint's truck."

"Nat was the one who got us there," Clint said. "I just held Laura's hand."

"I see," Phil said faintly. "It sounds like it was a good thing you were there."

"It wasn't that bad," Clint said. "Nowhere near what it was like in Minsk that time."

"I think he's referring to the fact that you helped deliver the little dude, not the weather," Laura said, elbowing Clint in the side unoccupied by the little dude in question. 

"You did all the work," Clint said, flushing. 

Phil bit back the jealousy that threatened to overtake him. Seeing Clint with these children who loved him and were loved in return, knowing that Clint had been at one of the births--it bowled him over how much he _wanted_ that. He'd never seriously considered children before, but now he wanted one with Clint. More than that--he wanted to marry Clint and raise a family with him. It was crazy--impetuous and crazy and impossible, especially given their jobs--but that didn't change how he felt.

"Anyone hungry for some lunch?" Clint asked, grinning. There was a chorus of agreement. "Phil, you feel up to grilling some cheese?"

"Sure," Phil said after a moment to regroup. He didn't think anyone had noticed his near-breakdown, thankfully. "Do we have enough bread?"

"There's some in the freezer," Clint said, bussing him on the cheek as he walked past. "Guys, you are in for a treat. Phil makes the best grilled cheese I've ever had."

"Better than yours?" Cooper asked, frowning. 

"Better than anyone's," Clint confirmed. "I've never gotten him to tell me his secret."

Phil cleared his throat. "I will not disclose it, so I'll need you to leave the kitchen."

"Is he serious?" Laura asked Clint.

"He absolutely is, and it's absolutely worth it," Clint said, ushering her towards the living room. "Lila, let's do some coloring. C'mon, Coop, you too."

"I'm gonna head out to check on the stock," Laura said, glancing between Clint and Phil. "I'll be back to sample these mysterious sandwiches in a half hour."

"I'll see you then," Phil said pleasantly, wishing he were wearing his suit instead of jeans. It would be easier to face all of this with his armor on.

"Here," Clint said, tossing him an apron with a knowing look. It was covered with tiny red and gold Iron Men, but it was better than nothing. "Let me know if you need any help."  
***  
After lunch they politely declined an invitation to have dinner with more of Clint's relatives. After dinner, which more food than Phil needed, but delicious enough that he ate it anyway, they sat down on the couch. "I guess it's my turn now," Clint said, and proceeded to tell Phil what he'd been doing the previous two years.

"Wow," Phil said eventually. "You've made a whole new life for yourself." Despite his best efforts, came out sounding just a tiny bit like he was whining.

"Stop that," Clint said, sitting back and scowling. "You do not get to do that, you son of a bitch. You were dead. You lost any right to influence my choices when you neglected to tell me you were still alive."

"I know," Phil said, putting his hand on Clint's arm. "You're right. I'm sorry." 

"I am so angry at you," Clint said in a tightly controlled monotone. "It's a good thing I'm also damned fond of you, or you'd be out on your ass."

"I know," Phil said again, "and I'm so lucky--" he choked a little and had to swallow hard. "I'm so damned lucky that you've let me back in your life."

Clint looked away, his shoulders dropping. "I'm beat," he said. "I know it's not that late, but I'm ready for bed. You can stay out here if you want--I've got the whole season of Dog Cops on my DVR."

"Do you want me to stay out here?" Phil asked cautiously. 

"What? No," Clint said. "It's not--I'm not punishing you, Phil, or at least I'm not trying to."

"I wouldn't blame you if you did," Phil said. "Me showing up here out of the blue, after you'd come to terms with my death--it's asking a lot of you."

Clint blew out a breath. "It's a lot to deal with--for both of us," he said. "It's worth it, though. You're worth it. Come on, let's go to bed."  
***  
The next day started the same, with Clint getting up before dawn and Phil sleeping in. He slept soundly, without nightmares; it felt like he'd been given the chance to catch up on at least some of the many years of sleep debt he had built up. 

After breakfast, Phil helped Clint with some of the chores, although he suspected that Clint would have gotten them done quicker without his help. Clint showed him the range he'd set up in an outer pasture, and Phil lost himself in watching Clint shoot, just as he always had. The only difference was, he no longer had to hide how it made him feel--he could walk right up to Clint and kiss him the way he'd always wanted to (even if he'd never admitted it to himself until after he died). 

They didn't talk about anything serious. They ate lunch; they had amazing, athletic sex; they showered together; they took a nap. They got up. Clint worked outside; Phil worked inside. They had dinner. They had sex so sweet and tender that Phil secretly thought of as making love. They went to bed wrapped in each other so closely they were sharing breaths. Just before he fell asleep, Phil wished every day could be like this one.  
***  
No matter how well Phil had slept, it was still way too dark and way too early when Clint got out of bed. So Phil did as he'd done the previous two mornings: he turned over and went back to sleep. It felt like no time at all had passed when Clint came back into the room, switched the light on, and shook his shoulder. "Phil, come on, get up!"

"Mmgrph," Phil said eloquently, pulling the pillow over his head. "'m on vacation," he protested, pretending that he wasn't wide awake already.

"There's something you have to see, babe," Clint said, taking the pillow away. "You don't have to get dressed all the way--you can borrow my jacket and my extra boots. Come on, we've got to hurry."

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," Phil said. Clint was acting like a kid on Christmas morning, and between that and the casual "babe," Phil couldn't help smiling. "What is it that you're so excited about?"

"You'll see," Clint said, holding a warm, puffy jacket out for Phil. "Here, you'll need this," he added, handing Phil a flashlight. Phil stuffed his feet in the boots and gamely followed Clint out in the snow and up the rise to the barn. 

"I had a feeling yesterday, so I brought her in last night," Clint said. 

"Brought who in?" Phil asked.

"Gertrude," Clint said. "I figured I'd check on her when I woke up to pee, and I was right." They'd reached a stall holding a sheep--a ewe would be the technical term, Phil supposed--in the middle of giving birth. There was already one lamb on the ground, trying to get up. "Oh, little one, here," Clint crooned, taking a towel he'd gotten somewhere and briskly rubbing it over the lamb's damp, slimy-looking body. 

It was warm enough in the barn that Phil had to unzip his jacket, although he left his hat on. He stood and watched while the ewe easily pushed another lamb out. She stood and set to licking the second lamb, working with Clint as smoothly as Clint and Natasha had in their Strike Team Delta days. Before Phil knew it both lambs were standing on long, wobbly legs, suckling from their mama from opposite sides. 

It was almost as adorable as when Clint had been holding Nathaniel, and it brought the same longing up for Phil. He leaned into Clint, who'd joined him outside the stall once the babies were eating, and allowed himself to bask unquestioned in the security and connection he felt.

"Thanks for waking me up," he said softly after they'd been standing there for a while. "I'm glad I got to see this."

"Yeah?" Clint asked, smiling shyly. "You don't mind?"

Instead of answering him, Phil pulled Clint closer and kissed him as tenderly as he could, trying to put into the kiss all the joy and possibility that he felt at that moment. Clint wrapped him in strong arms and kissed him back, his lips soft and gentle and perfect. When they finally parted, Clint said, "Was that for waking you up?"

Phil smiled. "I love you." He'd meant to wait until later, but he couldn't hold onto it any longer. "That's what that was for. I love you, Clint."

" _Phil,"_ Clint breathed. He kissed Phil again, on the lips, on the nose, on both cheeks in turn, at the corner of his jaw, and more kisses after that, whispering, "Love you too, I love you so much, Phil, always," in between kisses. 

There wasn't anything Phil could do after that besides kiss every bit of skin he could reach, which was limited by the heavy sweater Clint was wearing. He tugged at the hem, trying to get his fingers on Clint's back. Clint broke away, and Phil made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat.

"Babe, you're in your pajamas, and trust me when I say that hay bales are not as comfortable as you might think," Clint said, smiling at Phil with such joy that Phil felt like his heart was about to burst. 

"Fine," he answered, tangling their fingers together. "There's a very comfortable bed back in the house; let's go."

"Mmm, you go; I'll be in in a bit," Clint said. When Phil gave him a look, he said, "Don't pout at me like that, Phil--I've got chores to do, and if I can finish them all now, I won't have to worry about anything else until this evening. You go get the bed warm again, and I'll be back in an hour or so, I promise."

"Wasn't pouting," Phil said, even though he kind of was.

"Yes, you were," Clint said, squeezing his hand. "It's okay--it was kind of adorable. Now, go on, git."

"Your country is showing," Phil said, mostly because he wasn't ready to leave.

"Don't know if you've noticed, but we're in the country," Clint said. He swatted Phil on the ass. "I'll see you in an hour."

"I'm gonna hold you to that," Phil said. "One hour, or I'm coming out to find you."

"The sooner I get started, the sooner I'll be done." Clint led him to the door, opened it, and shut it behind him. Phil shivered, zipped his borrowed jacket up again, and shuffled back to the house as fast as he could.  
***  
After considering and rejecting the idea of going back to sleep, Phil took a shower, got dressed, and started in on breakfast. He'd cut up fruit for a fruit salad and some vegetables and ham for omelettes and was just about to set the table when Clint and Lucky came in. 

"You know, I could get used to this," Clint said, swiping a piece of cantaloupe. "How long are you staying again?"

"Only a week this time, I'm afraid," Phil said. 

Clint's eyebrows went up at the "this time," but all he said was, "Heading to the shower." He bussed Phil on the cheek as he walked by. "See you soon, honey!"

"I prefer 'babe' to 'honey,' sweetheart," Phil called after him, grinning when he heard Clint snort.

What Phil could see of Clint's skin was pink and his hair was still damp when he returned to the kitchen. He took a page from Phil's book and embraced him from behind, nuzzling Phil's neck and declaring it delicious. "Bacon looks good, too," he added, moving aside to begin plating it. 

Food was the last thing on Phil's mind, but he knew that once they got upstairs they weren't going to stop for anything. They might as well eat first. He still couldn't quite believe what had happened earlier, but when he looked at the soft smile on Clint's face he knew it was real. 

Neither of them hurried as they ate, but a normal pace in their case meant "could get called out at any moment," so they were finished quickly. Clint cleared the dishes, but he put them in the sink rather than in the dishwasher before taking Phil's hand and leading him upstairs again.

While breakfast had been quick, they took their time with each other, each of them moving more slowly and with more care than they had before. Each kiss, each caress, felt to Phil like they were made with deliberate intention: here, this, _this_ is how I feel about you, _this_ is the depth of my love for you. It was unlike anything Phil had ever experienced. 

The first touch of Clint's fingers over his hole had Phil throwing his head back and moaning. "You're so wet," Clint said, awestruck. 

"For you," Phil said. He gasped as Clint pressed two fingers up inside him. "Please," he said, "please, Clint."

"Shhh, I know, I know," Clint said. "How do you--I want to see your face. Can we do it like that?" 

"Yes, yes, of course," Phil babbled. He was straddling Clint's lap; it would be so easy just to sink down onto him. But Clint's fingers were still in him, thrusting gently in and out, plus, "Condom. Are they in the drawer?" 

He rolled to his back, whining a little as Clint took his fingers out to get the condom. "Don't need that," he told Clint when he went for the lube. 

"You sure?" Clint asked. 

"Yes, yes, come on," Phil said. "I'm ready, come on." The small part of his brain that wasn't consumed with need was distantly astonished by the desperation in his voice. The only time he'd felt like this was the single heat he'd actually indulged in, and at the time he'd put it down to adolescent hormones more than anything else. But this--it was crazy to feel like this. He wasn't even in heat; his last one had ended only a month ago. 

Then Clint pushed into him in one long, slow, delicious slide, and even that small part of his brain shut up. Phil was overwhelmed by the connection between them, which felt deeper than physical, deeper still with each slow, measured thrust, as Clint filled him so full, so perfectly. Then Clint's thrusts got harder, and he felt even more. Phil couldn't move, couldn't breathe, could only hold on as Clint ground into him, his knot swelling as he cried out and came. Clint reached out and pulled clumsily at Phil's dick a couple times. That was all it took for Phil, his orgasm shooting through what felt like every inch of his body.

Things got a little awkward when Clint tried to pull out and Phil yelped and grabbed his ass to keep him close. Clint collapsed on top of him, elbowing him in the ribs, and it took them both a minute to find a position that would work until they could separate again. "Shit, what--did I _knot_ you?" Clint asked breathlessly. "How am I--what if the condom falls off?" 

Phil couldn't help it, he started laughing. He was afraid Clint would take it the wrong way, but after a brief look of betrayal, Clint chuckled. They'd ended up with Clint on the bottom and Phil draped over him, and the more they laughed, the more Clint's knot tugged against Phil, until it eventually slipped out. "Got it," Clint said triumphantly as he pulled out, condom still in place. "Be right back."

Phil was still giggling when Clint came back to the bed with a washcloth and cleaned them both up. "Stop it," Clint said, swatting him on the leg. "It wasn't that funny."

"Yes, it was," Phil said. He tried to use his Director voice, but he couldn't stop grinning. 

"I'm taking my hearing aids out now," Clint said, "so you go right ahead and say whatever the fuck you want to once I can't hear you anymore."

"Wait," Phil said, grabbing his hand. 

Clint looked at him warily. "What?"

It was stupid, but Phil needed to say it again. "I love you."

Clint's expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss Phil's forehead. "I love you too, Phil."  
***  
"I could get used to this," Phil said when he woke up, making sure Clint could see his face. "Turns out that vacations are legitimately awesome. If I'd known how much great sex and napping was involved, I would have gone on one years ago."

"I'm a little surprised you haven't been working more," Clint said, stretching luxuriantly before reaching for his hearing aids. "I know you must have stuff to do, what with being the new Fury and all."

Phil hummed in consideration. "I think I'm more aware that if I tried to get everything done, I'd never eat or sleep again. There's no way to keep up. That, and I'm better at delegating." He was going to need to get better still if he wanted to spend time here with Clint, although he was hoping to persuade him to come to California as frequently as possible. "Also, never refer to me as 'the new Fury' ever again."

"No promises," Clint said, smirking. "Your team probably thinks you need a vacation. Not that you ever listened to me and Nat when we tried to get you to take a break--or to Fury, for that matter."

"My priorities have shifted some," Phil said. "Dying will do that to a person."

"Can you not talk about it so casually?" Clint said, frowning. He got out of bed and quickly got dressed. 

"Sorry," Phil said. While he got that it might upset Clint, he was determined to be honest, and that meant occasionally bringing up what had happened to him. 

Clint shrugged. "Whatever. I need to go check on the stock before lunch."

This despite telling Phil earlier he'd be free until the evening. "I'll come with you," Phil said, but Clint waved him off.

"Call the office," he said. "I'm sure you can find something to occupy your time."

"Clint," Phil said, reaching out to grab his wrist. 

Clint shook him off. "Look, it's gonna take me some time, Phil. Maybe you're used to it, but I'm not."

"Maybe you could shoot something," Phil said, trying for a smile. "That usually works."

"That's probably a good idea," Clint said with a sigh. "I won't be gone long."

"Take as long as you need," Phil said. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm gonna hold you to that, Coulson." Clint gave him a quick kiss and left the room, calling to Lucky as he went down the stairs.  
***  
Catching up on various operations took Phil the rest of the morning. May was able to confirm at least one thing he'd been curious about, even if she couldn't access the information in Fury's toolbox. He'd have to go check the Des Moines facility out personally.

He could have easily kept going, but just as he realized he was getting hungry, Clint came back, dropping an apologetic kiss on the top of his head as he walked towards the kitchen.

"Sandwiches okay?" he asked when Phil followed him. "We'll need to head into town tomorrow to pick up a few things. I mean, you don't have to come--"

"Of course I'll come," Phil interrupted. "Unless you don't want me to?"

"I want you to," Clint said, coming over and wrapping his arms around Phil. "I'm sorry. I know it probably seems like I'm running hot and cold on this, but I do want you here. It's just a lot to get used to."

"I understand," Phil said. "It's an adjustment for both of us."

"Except for the part where I thought you were dead and you didn't contact me for years." Clint's voice was matter-of-fact rather than angry. Phil honestly might have preferred the anger.

"I did try, Clint," Phil said. "I thought you were undercover, but I did try to contact you. I should have tried harder, and I should have realized you'd never have gone away without talking to me, but I tried to contact you."

He felt Clint's sigh against his chest. "You're right, I guess, but that's not how it feels to me. I know it shouldn't matter, not when I've got you here and now."

"Of course it matters," Phil said. He swallowed hard. "I left you, and then I betrayed your trust. That's probably the worst thing I could ever do to you."

"Well, when you put it that way," Clint said, his mouth going up at the corner. He considered Phil for a moment, then shook his head briefly. "Enough serious talk. I'm hungry--let's eat."

"Okay," Phil said after a moment. "Let's eat. Eating is good."  
***  
They'd almost finished their sandwiches when Clint abruptly said, "Can I ask you something?"

Phil swallowed so quickly it was a little painful. "Of course."

"Earlier...has that ever happened before?" Clint asked, looking down, his cheeks pink.

Phil paused, but Clint didn't say anything else. "Has what ever happened?"

"It's just...I thought knotting only happened when someone was in heat," Clint said, meeting his eyes briefly.

"That's how it usually works, but it can happen outside of heat," Phil said. "It's rare, though. It surprised me, too."

"Was it--did you like it? Was it okay?" Clint asked.

Phil put his hand on top of Clint's and squeezed. "It felt incredible, Clint. I loved it. Was it okay for you?"

"It was a little weird when I realized what had happened, but, yeah, it was pretty great," Clint answered. "I've never--it's never happened to me before."

"I have a theory on why," Phil said, watching Clint carefully. 

"Are you going into heat?" Clint asked. "I know you said you weren't, but maybe your cycle's off or something?"

"I don't think so," Phil said. "I think it might be because you and I are so compatible--exceptionally compatible. Genetically, although there might be an emotional component as well--the science isn't very clear."

"What do you mean?" Clint asked. "What does it mean to be compatible like that?" 

Phil was reminded again of how little formal education Clint had had, including sex ed. Clint was incredibly intelligent, and he'd made up for most of the deficits from his childhood, but between his own desire for the pill combined with SHIELD's insistence that all active field agents present as betas, Clint probably hadn't had much chance to catch up on that portion of the standard curriculum. "It means...it means that we could conceive much more easily than other male-male alpha-omega pairs," he said. "I think we might even be able to bond. Potentially. If we chose to."

"I thought bonding was an urban legend," Clint said, something like awe showing in his eyes.

"It's not," Phil said, reaching across the table to take his hand. "It only happens a few times in a generation, even with our current world population, but it can happen. One of my first cases with SHIELD was investigating a couple in Peru who'd bonded. I've never forgotten it."

"It was good? It wasn't creepy?" Clint asked.

"It was beautiful," Phil said simply. "The omega was about six months pregnant with their second child; they were so happy." It had made Phil want things he could never have--or so he'd thought. 

There was something in Clint's expression that hinted that he might want those same things. "You ever think about it?" he asked after a moment.

"Kids?" Phil asked. At Clint's hesitant nod, he said, "I never used to."

Clint's ears and cheeks went pink. "Yeah, me neither."

"Not even with Bobbi?" Phil asked.

Clint shook his head. "Didn't even tell her I was an alpha. I think she guessed, but she never brought it up. You didn't with Audrey?"

"Never told her I was omega," Phil admitted. "We were better as friends; I wish I'd realized that sooner. Especially considering the fact I was in love with you the whole time."

"Really?" Clint asked, giving Phil a shy smile. "Even then?"

"Even then," Phil confirmed. "For years, Clint."

"Yeah, for me too," Clint said. "Although I think Bobbi figured that one out long before I did." He paused. "I did love her, though. Just not the way she needed me to."

Phil hummed in response, taking Clint's hand and squeezing it. Clint took another bite of his sandwich before saying, "We'll figure it out, though. Right?"

"We will," Phil promised, even though he wasn't sure how.  
***  
Clint went back out to the barn after lunch, apologetically telling Phil he thought another of the ewes might be getting ready to deliver. Phil sent him off with a kiss and settled back onto the couch, opening his tablet. May had sent along anything she could find on the Des Moines facility, including scans of some documents from when SHIELD was still the SSR. Phil recognized Peggy Carter's signature and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the only other person mentioned was Howard Stark, who had predictably funded the operation. Tony's father was a lot of things, but he wasn't Hydra. 

None of that meant the base still existed, or that Hydra hadn't taken it over at some point. The toolbox would have told him, but fortunately Phil had another way of checking it out. He put those plans aside and opened up a window to call Skye. May had said she was doing fine, but he knew she was worried. It was the inflection of the "fine." If Skye really had been doing all right, there would have been more of a bite to it.

Skye answered with a cheerful, "Hey, boss," but the dark circles under her eyes had only gotten worse since he'd last seen her. "How's your vacation going?"

"Well, thank you," Phil said. "How're things there?"

Skye shrugged. "Oh, you know, same old same old. Sparred with May this morning, heard from the Black Widow after lunch, sparred with Bobbi this afternoon."

"Agent Romanoff contacted the base?" Phil asked. He'd known it was a possibility, but he'd thought she'd wait until he was back. 

"She did," Skye confirmed, narrowing her eyes. "Were you ever going to let us in on the fact that she knows you're alive?"

"She's only known for a few days," Phil said. Clint came in from outside and sat down on the couch next to him, just out of view.

"You tell the rest of the Avengers, too, or just Black Widow?" Skye asked.

"Just her and Agent Barton," Phil said "Was there anything else you needed?"

"Might be nice to know where you are," Skye said.

"That's classified," Phil said. 

"But _no one_ knows, Coulson," Skye said. "Not even May!"

"Agent Romanoff knows where I am," Phil said. "And Agent May knows how to get in touch with me--as do you."

"So you're saying I can ask Agent Romanoff?" Skye asked gleefully. "She should be here in a few hours."

Clint snorted a laugh in the seat next to him. "Good luck with that," he muttered.

"Is there someone there with you?" Skye asked, squinting at the screen as if she could magically make the view wider. "Someone who knows the Black Widow?"

"That's none of your business, Skye," Phil said. "But feel free to ask Agent Romanoff anything you like. I look forward to hearing how your interrogation skills have progressed."

Clint chuckled again, not even trying to keep the noise down this time. 

"Okay, come on, 'fess up, Director," Skye said. "Who have you got with you?"

"Okay to tell," Clint signed quickly. "If you want."

"Sure?" Phil signed back. 

Clint nodded. "Go ahead," he said out loud.

"Okay, what the hell is going on there?" Skye asked. "Is that, like, Trip's brother or something? Because I didn't know he had one."

"It's me," Clint said, sticking his head into the frame. "I'm not Trip's brother. I knew him, though. He was a good agent."

Skye stared for a moment, her mouth hanging open. "Is that _Hawkeye?_ Coulson, you're taking your vacation with _Hawkeye?_ Does Agent Romanoff know?"

"Of course she does," Phil said irritably. "And, yes, I'm with Agent Barton. That information is not to be shared, Skye."

"Not even with May?" she asked gleefully. "Wait, Agent Barton is Hawkeye? Why didn't I know that?"

"May already knows I'm with Barton," Phil said. May had been quite vocal (for May, anyway) about Phil "finally getting your head out of your ass and doing something" about his feelings for Clint. As usual, she'd been right, not that he would admit that to her any time soon.

"Ooookay, so you and Agent Barton, otherwise known as Hotguy--I mean Hawkguy--hey, what's your first name, Hawkeye? Or am I not cleared to know that either?"

"It's Clint," Clint said, grinning. "I like her," he signed. 

"Great, so, you and Clint Barton, a _SHIELD agent_ who just happens to be _Hawkeye,_ are in some undisclosed location on vacation together. Got it," Skye said, grinning. She looked happier than she had in weeks.

Phil supposed it was worth it. "I meant what I said, Skye."

"Right, got it. Don't worry, Coulson, I won't tell anyone. I'll just see what I can find out from May and Agent Romanoff."

"One more thing, Skye," Phil said. 

"Yeah, boss?"

"You could learn a lot from Natasha. Tell her that May's your SO and ask if she'll train with you. Get Jemma and Bobbi to join in."

"Sure thing," Skye said, eyes wide. "I'll just train with the Black Widow. That can't be any more terrifying than training with May, right?"

Clint snorted. "I wouldn't let Nat hear you say that, kid," he said. "Good luck. Don't be fooled by her dropping her left shoulder. It's a feint."

"Thanks, Clint!" Skye said. Phil was the one who snorted this time. "Uh, I mean Hawkeye. Agent Barton. Thank you, Agent Barton."

"Goodbye, Skye," Phil said pointedly. 

"Catch you later, AC," she said, thankfully ending the call at that point.

"I like her, Phil," Clint said. "She's got gumption."

"You have no idea," Phil said, shaking his head and smiling. "She's pretty great, actually. Reminds me a little of you."

"That bad, huh?" Clint said.

"That good," Phil corrected. "She's been through hell--including spending her entire childhood shuffling through the foster system--but she's...she's a good person. Like you. Smart and sarcastic, too. A pretty good shot, but you should see what she can do with a computer."

"Wow," Clint said, his voice a little flat. "Sounds like you're pretty close."

"She's like family to me," Phil clarified. "A surrogate daughter. I fear the day when the two of you meet and end up ganging up on me--I'll be powerless to resist. Promise me you won't let any of our enemies know."

"Huh," Clint said, his gaze sharpening. "Kind of like how I feel about Cooper, Lila, and Nate, then." 

"Probably, yeah," Phil said. He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Can we agree that whatever jealousy either one of us might have felt is ridiculous and never speak of it again?"

Clint snorted. "Deal."  
***  
When Phil came back from the bathroom that evening, he was surprised to see that Clint was sitting up and still wearing his hearing aids. He got into bed and into Clint's arms, leaving the light on. "What's up?" he asked.

Clint hesitated. "I just...I thought we should talk about what happens next."

"Well, in my experience, after sex that good, usually you go to sleep, but I'm guessing that's not what you're talking about," Phil said, running his fingers through Clint's hair.

Clint snorted. "You've slept more the last few days than you usually do in a month, Coulson. I think you can manage to stay awake a little longer. "

"I suppose I can, for you," Phil said, not even trying to keep the fondness out of his voice. "As far as what happens next, what do you want to know? I'll be here a few more days before I have to leave. I was hoping maybe you'd come back with me, at least for a little while. I know Melinda would love to see you. Bobbi, too, although she might not admit it."

"I'd like to, but it's a busy time," Clint said. "I may not be able to come for a few weeks. Where is 'there,' by the way?"

Phil grimaced, remember how he'd felt when he'd first opened Fury's toolbox and found out where he'd be going. "Burbank."

Clint stared at him for a second before guffawing. "Burbank? Seriously? That's where your super secret base is?"

"And that's why it's a good location," Phil said with a long-suffering sigh. "Who would ever suspect SHIELD would hide out in Burbank?"

"Yeah, but still--whose brilliant idea was that, anyway?"

"Director Carter, apparently," Phil said. "The rumor was she and Stark had something on Walt Disney that got them the land."

"Huh," Clint said. 

When he didn't say anything else, Phil thought about turning the light out. Instead he said, "Any time you could come would be great. I don't know how often I'll be able to get out here, but I've got some ideas about how to make that easier."

"Like what?" Clint asked.

"According to our records, there was an SSR facility in Des Moines at one time," Phil said. "I thought you and I could go check it out before I leave. If it's a viable prospect, I could set up a base there. I'd probably still have to spend most of my time at the Playground, but I could get back and forth to Des Moines from here in an hour or so--less than that if I take Lola."

Clint looked at him. "You're really serious about this."

"Of course I am," Phil said. "I can't say it's going to be easy, but I love you, Clint. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to be with you, including setting up shop in Iowa."

"But you don't know if it'll work out," Clint said. "Neither one of us does. Phil, I'm an Avenger, and you're the Director of SHIELD. Our jobs are important."

"SHIELD is important, and so is avenging," Phil said. "Our jobs are demanding and dangerous. But I am not willing to give you up, Clint. I've given my life to SHIELD already--literally. I won't give it again. I want to keep working, but my priorities have changed. I know that might be hard to believe, but I'll prove it to you. I promise."

"Okay," Clint said, kissing his shoulder. "For the record, no matter what happens, I'm all in."

"I never doubted it," Phil said. "Now, since you'll no doubt insist on getting up before dawn again, how about turning off the light and going to sleep?"  
***  
There were three new lambs in the barn the next morning--all from the same ewe, which was a potential problem according to Clint. "Sometimes they'll only accept two of them," he said. "We'll have to keep a close eye out; we may need to hand-feed one."

"Should we skip going to town?" Phil asked. All he could tell about the lambs was that they were sleeping together in an adorable pile of fluff and limbs. Their mom appeared to be ignoring all three of them at the moment.

"What?" Clint looked confused for a moment, then shook his head. "No, it's fine. We can be gone a couple hours. I'll just check on the rest of the stock, if you want to go back and start on breakfast."

"I see what you're doing, Barton," Phil said with a smile. "You're just angling for some of my french toast."

"Guilty as charged, boss," Clint replied cheerfully. "Got to take advantage of your magical breakfast skills while I can."

The lambs all appeared to be holding their own after their post-breakfast, post-sex nap, so Clint and Phil got in Clint's truck for the trip up to Waverly. There wasn't much to see, but it was nice walking in the gardens around the library. Clint seemed to draw a kind of peace from showing Phil where he'd been born and spent the first half of his childhood. 

They had a late lunch at the home of Debbie and Bill Francis, who greeted Phil with as much warmth as they did Clint. Laura and the kids were there as well, all of them seated around a table large enough for another half dozen people. From what Clint told him, they still needed additional card tables when they hosted Thanksgiving--which Phil had been instructed to attend "if you and Clint aren't too busy saving the world again."

"We'll do our best, Debbie," Clint said, knocking shoulders with Phil. He looked so happy at the invitation that he practically glowed; Phil couldn't help but smile back at him. 

"That's all I ask, son," Debbie said. It wasn't the first time she'd referred to Clint like that. Every time she did, it warmed something deep in Phil's heart. He'd spent years--decades, maybe--wishing he could change the past and make it so Clint had a family that loved and cared for him. Now he did.

If it also made Phil miss his own parents, well. No one had to know. Except Clint could see what no one else could and managed to find a way to touch him--hold his hand, brush his lips across his cheek, put his hand at the small of Phil's back--every time those thoughts surfaced.

Phil's surrogate family of agents, even including Skye, weren't enough to prepare him for a real-life family like the Francises, especially when they accepted him with such open arms. When she found out that Phil, like Clint, had lost his parents at an early age, Debbie pulled Phil into a hug and whispered, "I'm so sorry," into his ear. 

Phil hadn't willingly acknowledged his loss to anyone in years. He was used to being a senior SHIELD agent, to being the one who gave comfort and solace to others. Receiving such comfort from Debbie was almost more than he could take.

If anyone besides Clint noticed the dampness in his eyes, they were polite enough not to mention it, and Clint announced they had to get home shortly thereafter. "I cried the first time I met Debbie," he said once they were in the truck, leaving the "too" unspoken. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Phil said. "I...I'm really glad you found them, Clint. They're great. They're a great family."

"Yours, too, now," Clint said. When Phil looked at him, he added, "What, you didn't know? Phil. What's mine is yours. And that includes my family. Or did you not notice Cooper and Lila referring to you as 'Uncle Phil'?"

Phil swallowed. "I noticed," he said, looking down. 

"Was it too much?" Clint asked, pulling the truck over to the side of the road. "Shit, Phil, I should have said something to Laura--"

"It surprised me," Phil admitted. "Scared me a little. But I liked it."

"Yeah?" Clint asked.

"Yeah," Phil answered, leaning over the gearshift so he could kiss Clint. "Come on, take me to this market that doesn't have kale. We're almost out of eggs. They do have eggs, right?"

Clint laughed and kissed him again. "They do--local ones, nice and fresh. They even have milk and butter. If we're lucky, we might even score some orange juice."  
***  
The rest of the week flew by in a flurry of good food, great sex, adorable baby animals, and a happiness Phil had never known before. All too soon it was nearly time to leave for Des Moines, where they'd spend the day and night before Phil's flight out in the morning. 

It was harder than Phil might have thought to pack up, even though he made a point of leaving a few things behind in one of the drawers Clint had set aside. He made sure to pack some of Clint's things to take with him--a couple of t-shirts, a flannel shirt, and a pair of pajama pants. 

It would have been more practical to drive separately, but neither Phil nor Clint liked that idea, so when Laura offered to drive down to Des Moines the next day to get Clint and take him back home, they accepted gratefully. "I'm glad," Clint told Phil softly after he got off the phone. "I want as much time with you as I can get."

"Me, too," Phil said before pulling him close. Neither of them slept well that night, with first Clint and then Phil waking from nightmares. They held each other in the dark, giving a kind of wordless comfort neither of them had encountered much before. 

If he had to spend a mostly sleepless night, Phil was glad to be spending it with Clint.  
***  
The next day dawned bright and sunny, but with a cutting wind that made Phil wish again for a warmer coat. Clint insisted on bundling him up in his down jacket again, even though Phil told him he'd have no use for it in California. "You need it more than I do, Clint."

"I'll take it back with me," Clint promised. "For now, you wear it."

Phil acquiesced with a grateful smile. 

They only had GPS coordinates to rely upon to find the base. Phil half expected it to be in some abandoned grain silo, but instead the coordinates led to the airport. "Looks like it might be the Air National Guard building," Clint said, frowning at Phil's tablet. "I guess we can sneak our way in."

"Hold on," Phil said, tapping the button on the dash that would connect them to the Playground. It didn't take long before official badges identifying them as members of the Guard came out of a slot hidden in the glovebox. 

"That's handy," Clint said. "Come on, let's go find us a secret door. Tony loves secret doors."

"Secret doors are _my_ thing," Phil said, frowning a little as he drove into the parking lot.

"I think he does it in some weird way to honor you," Clint said quietly.

"Oh," Phil said. "I...I do intend on telling the rest of them," he added after a minute. "I'm just not sure how or when to broach the subject."

"As long as it's soon," Clint said, frowning.

"It will be," Phil promised. "But for now, let's concentrate on finding this place." He clipped the badge to his jacket, glad he'd resisted the urge to stay in jeans for one more day. Hopefully no one would pay them much attention.

"Hey, wait," Clint said as Phil started to open the door.

"What is it?" Phil asked.

"Just," Clint said, leaning in to kiss Phil softly. "For luck."

"For luck," Phil agreed, kissing him back just as softly.  
***  
In the end it was a bit anticlimactic--Phil's phone buzzed the minute they walked through security. The text included a map of the building with the location of a freight elevator highlighted. Once they found the elevator, Phil held his Playground lanyard up to the keypad. The expected scanner lit up indicating his identification was accepted, and the elevator opened. They descended smoothly to a sub-basement before the doors opened into a nondescript hallway. 

A short, somewhat rotund woman was waiting for them. She had light brown hair done up in a pony-tail, and a face that looked somewhat familiar, although Phil knew they'd never met. "Director Coulson, we've been expecting you," she said, glancing at Clint with her eyes narrowed.

"Thank you, Agent...?" Phil trailed off expectantly.

"Annie Koenig, sir. Welcome to the Pantry. I have to say it is an honor to meet you, sir! I've heard so much about you from my brothers. I have a lanyard waiting for you, of course. Other lanyards will be issued on a case by case basis," she added, looking at Clint again.

"Agent Koenig, this is Clint," Phil said. "As in Agent Clint Barton, call sign Hawkeye. As in the Avenger."

"Of course, sir," she said. "I know you understand the lanyard protocol."

"Clint isn't just an Avenger. He's also my partner," Phil said firmly. "I promise you, there is no need to vet him."

"It's okay, Phil," Clint said, putting a hand on Phil's arm. "She's just doing her job. I don't mind."

"Maybe I mind," Phil grumbled under his breath. 

"I'll tell you what, Director Coulson. How's about I upload a schematic of the base to your tablet, and you can take a look around while I ask Agent Barton a few questions, just to make sure." Annie Koenig smiled at him brightly. It was far less creepy than when any of her brothers did it, despite the strong family resemblance. 

"Maybe I should supervise," Phil said. 

"Phil," Clint said, his voice full of fond exasperation, "it's okay. I don't need any special treatment. I'll come find you when I'm done."

Phil manfully ignored the voice inside him that was whining that he didn't want Koenig to _take his boyfriend away_ when they had so little time left and instead said, "All right. I'll just look around, then."

"Great!" Annie said. "Agent Barton, if you'll follow me."

Phil wasn't sure why yet another secret base had a name starting with P, but SHIELD's naming strategies had always been a bit suspect. After he'd explored a little, he came to the conclusion that the name was actually appropriate for once: the Pantry seemed to mainly function as a storehouse. There were rooms full of munitions, MREs, lab equipment, clothing and other gear; there was even a large greenhouse growing hydroponic and potted vegetables. He wouldn't have been surprised to learn that Peggy Carter and Howard Stark had originally set it up as some sort of elaborate bomb shelter.

He was caught up in looking through the database that had showed up on his tablet alongside the schematics when Clint reappeared, none the worse for wear, a shiny new lanyard around his neck. "Guess I passed, huh?" he asked, slinging an arm around Phil's waist and looking over his shoulder.

"I never doubted it," Phil said, pulling him close enough to kiss. "I hope it wasn't too bad," he said after the kiss.

"Nah, it was fine," Clint said. "What have you found?"

Phil read it for the deliberate change of subject it was and let the matter drop. "Nothing particularly interesting," he said. He'd expected more than this; the Pantry was by far the most boring secret base he'd encountered since becoming director. 

"Hey, you found the quarters yet?" Clint asked, pulling Phil out of his thoughts. "Annie recommended a bed and breakfast not far from here, or we could get a hotel. She even invited us to dinner, if we want. Her wife's around here somewhere."

Phil considered how best to respond and went with, "She's married?" He took Clint by the hand and tugged him along, peering at the schematic to find out where, in fact, the quarters were located.

Clint hummed. "They have a couple of rugrats, too. She showed me pictures."

"There are kids on base?" Phil asked, turning to look at Clint.

"What?" Clint said, laughing. "No, of course not! They have a house, Phil."

"Huh," Phil said. When Clint looked at him, he added, "her brothers all live onsite at various bases. I just assumed she did as well."

"Nope," Clint said cheerfully. "She says her brothers don't come to visit as often as she'd like, though. Says the guest rooms don't get much use; I was afraid for a minute she was going to invite us to stay there."

"I think a hotel would be best," Phil said diplomatically.

They continued through the halls, stopping occasionally to check a room out more thoroughly. Phil lingered in the kitchen, which was in quite a state of disrepair but looked like it had good bones (he'd always preferred cooking with gas, and that stove looked like a classic), while Clint moved ahead. He looked up from examining the burners when he heard Clint call his name.

"What is it?" he asked, only to stop dead when he saw what apparently counted as "quarters" in the Pantry. "Those are bunkbeds," he said.

"Yep," Clint agreed. 

"They're not even separate rooms," Phil pointed out.

"Nope," Clint confirmed.

"We're not staying here," Phil said.

"Nope," Clint said again, a smirk on his face. "Guess we know why Annie has a house in town, huh?"

"Yep," Phil said. "You were saying something about a bed and breakfast?"

"Yeah," Clint said. "We can check it out after we finish our tour. What else is left?"

Phil consulted his tablet. "Office space," he said. "It should be back this way." Clint followed him down yet another unremarkable hallway. "Is it my imagination, or does everything look the same here?"

"Oh come on, Coulson, can't you tell that wall is a slightly different shade of rusty brown than the one in the room of bunks was?" Clint asked, smirking.

"Not all of us have your vision, Barton," Phil answered.

"I guess it's a good thing you have me along, huh?" Clint said. 

"Always," Phil said seriously, taking Clint's hand and squeezing it. 

Clint didn't say anything, but the smile he gave Phil was worth more than the proverbial thousand words.  
***  
Phil was scrutinizing a room full of ancient desks when Clint took his phone out of his pocket and said, "I should take this. It's Nat."

"How are you even getting a signal down here?" Phil asked. His tablet barely worked, and it was as top of the line as SHIELD could afford. It had to be, or it wouldn't function with Fury's toolbox.

"It's Tony's latest prototype," Clint said, accepting the call. Clint called Stark "Tony"--Phil guessed that was a good thing, but it still sounded really weird. 

"Hey, what's up? Yeah. Tomorrow. Uh-huh. Huh. Of course he is. I don't know, Nat. Yeah. No, I know. Okay, hold on." He passed the phone to Phil. "She wants to talk to you."

"Hello, Natasha," he said.

"Everyone's in New York," she said. "Stark's throwing a team dinner. You and Clint should come."

"You want me to come to New York? Tonight?" Phil asked, looking to Clint for some guidance. Clint nodded enthusiastically. 

"Why not?" Natasha said. "We can have a party. Stark loves parties."

At least Natasha still called him Stark. "Pepper's here, too," she continued. "Even Jane and Darcy. You could tell everyone. Get it over with."

The idea had some appeal. It would suck, but he already knew that. Waiting wasn't going to make it suck any less. "I'll need to contact my people," he said. "Make sure nothing's going on that they can't handle on their own. And we'll have to look into flights; there might not be anything out in time for us to make dinner."

"Annie says there's a plane we can use," Clint said, grinning. 

"Apparently we have access to a plane," Phil told Natasha, frowning at Clint. "So I guess we'll be there for dinner."

"I'll tell Tony we can expect Clint, and that he'll be bringing a guest," Natasha said. 

And there it was, the dreaded "Tony" coming out of Natasha's mouth. "Tell JARVIS as well," Phil said. This was definitely going to suck.

"Oh, I think I'll leave that to you," Natasha said. "Now give the phone back to Clint."

Phil handed Clint's phone back and got his own out, but "No Service" was up there in the corner, mocking him. Maybe Stark would give him one of the prototypes, too. 

Maybe he'd just throw Phil out of the Tower and never speak to him again. The thought hurt--not that Phil would ever admit it to Stark. 

There was a phone on the closest desk that looked even older than the one in Clint's kitchen--it had an actual rotary dial--but Phil got a dial tone when he lifted the headset, and once he'd finished dialing all the appropriate numbers, it started ringing. Phil had to go through every single security check he and the Agents Koenig had set up, but eventually he got through to May. 

"You know how I was coming back tomorrow morning?" he asked.

"You're not?" she said. She didn't sound surprised, but May never did.

"Not so much, no," he said. "Unless you need me. I'll still leave tomorrow, but I'll be leaving from New York instead of Des Moines, and I'm not sure when I'll get in."

"You're going to tell them," May said, not making it a question.

"It's time, May," he said. "Natasha knows, and I'm with Clint, and it's not fair to make Sif lie to Thor any longer."

"Fury and Hill aren't going to like it."

"Fury and Hill don't have a say," Phil said. "Not about this. Not anymore."  
***  
"Nervous?" Clint asked as they prepared for landing in New York.

"A little," Phil admitted. "Tony's gonna be pissed. Thor's not going to be happy either."

"Pepper will probably cry," Clint said. "And Steve will be disappointed in you."

"Gee, thanks for pointing that out," Phil said. "I've always wanted to disappoint Captain America. It's one of my childhood dreams."

Clint snorted. "Don't think you're gonna get any sympathy from me, Coulson."

"I will keep apologizing to you and Natasha for the rest of my life, Clint," Phil said, "but I will not apologize for following Fury's orders not to tell the rest of the Avengers. I was dead, and it wasn't until months later that I was even aware enough to tell anyone anything. It wouldn't have served any purpose to tell them then."

"Do you actually believe all of the bullshit that comes out of your mouth?" Clint asked, turning to face him. "I'll grant you that Cap and Bruce never really knew you before, but Tony Stark _grieved_ for you. There are scholarships and memorials and parks named after Phillip J. Coulson. And that doesn't even get to how much you meant to Pepper. Thor, too--he composed odes, Phil. They're regularly sung at Asgard."

"Odes?" Phil asked faintly. Sif never said anything about odes.

"Odes," Clint confirmed. "And parks, and scholarships, and Pepper cried at your funeral--fuck, we _all_ cried at your funeral, including _Steve Rogers._ So don't give me any of that 'it wouldn't have served any purpose' bullshit. Not ever again, do you hear me?" His voice, which had gotten louder and louder, cracked at the end, and Phil saw with horror that his eyes were red and damp.

"Okay," he said, putting his hand on Clint's arm. "Okay, I promise. I won't. I'm so sorry, Clint."

"Yeah, well you damned well should be." Clint sighed. "This won't be any fun for me, either. You know that, right?"

"I do," Phil said. "And if you want to keep our relationship out of it--" He shut up when Clint glared at him. "Neither do I," he added quickly. "I'll tell everyone back on base when I get there." 

He didn't think of Burbank as home anymore, Phil realized. Home was Clint's farmhouse. Home was _Clint,_ as cliched as that sounded, and he couldn't keep the smile off his face as he thought about it. 

"If you keep smiling like that, they're definitely gonna know something's up," Clint said. 

"I don't want to hide how happy you make me, Clint," Phil said. "I want to tell everyone."

Clint frowned his 'I'm having a thought that's not necessarily good' frown. "I, uh...there's something we probably should talk about."

"What is it?" Phil asked, consciously relaxing his fingers to keep from clenching his fist.

"You know I'm an Avenger," he said, looking at Phil briefly before returning his gaze to the instrument panel. 

"I am aware, yes," Phil said, waiting as patiently as he could. Words and Clint weren't always a good match.

"People recognize me sometimes," he said eventually. "I don't get the kind of attention that Tony and Steve do, but it's not like my SHIELD days. People know who I am. Sometimes there are people taking pictures--paparazzi, I guess. Especially in New York. They like to hang out around the Tower."

Phil should have realized it--hell, he'd bought a gossip mags at the grocery store checkout counter a couple times when he'd seen Clint's face on the cover. "That doesn't change anything," he said. "Not really. No one's gonna know who I am, Clint. I'll just be some anonymous suit, like always."

"You're not stupid enough to believe that," Clint said, glancing at him sidelong. "The only way that'll work is if we're never seen in public together. Is that what you want?"

"No, it's not," Phil said after a moment. "But that brings up another conundrum." 

"Yeah," Clint said. "Coming out wasn't part of my long-term plan. Neither were you. I guess we've both got some thinking to do."

"When you say 'thinking,' you're talking about how we're going to handle it with the public, right?" Phil asked, his heart in his throat. 

"What else would I be talking about?" Clint said, a look of genuine confusion on his face.

"Nothing," Phil said quickly. "Never mind." He could see Clint decide not to pursue it any further at that moment, but he had no doubt Clint would figure it out at some point. Fortunately, Clint had to take the plane off automatic pilot as they approached New York airspace.  
***  
They flew into Teterboro, and as they were waiting at the taxi stand, a young woman came up to Clint and asked if she could get a picture with him. "You're just my favorite, oh my God," she said, grabbing his arm. 

Phil could read how uncomfortable Clint was, but no one else would have been able to tell as Clint graciously posed for a photo. She pressed her phone into Phil's hand and asked him to take the picture, so he did, putting on the pleasant, forgettable face that he'd used for years. Clint's smile was just as fake, but it got the job done, and a cab arrived right after Phil had taken the requisite three pictures the woman demanded. 

"Stark Tower," Clint told the driver, who gave a bored nod and pulled out into traffic.

"Isn't it Avengers Tower now?" Phil asked, bumping Clint's shoulder and smirking a little.

"Shut up," Clint said, but he was smiling a little, so Phil knew it was okay.

They kept up the kind of coded small-talk they'd use for missions during the ride to the Tower, even though they really didn't have to. It was familiar and comforting, which Phil appreciated more and more as they got closer to the Tower. 

"Hey," Clint said as they pulled up to the main entrance. "It'll be okay."

"I hope you're right," Phil said, and then it was time to pay the driver and get his bags out of the trunk. 

It took a couple of minutes to walk around to the side of the building to a nondescript door. "Private entrance," Clint explained, punching in a code and getting his retina scanned. "JARVIS, I have a guest," he said as they walked through the door.

"Indeed you do," JARVIS answered, and Phil realized he'd actually missed the cultured British voice of Stark's AI. "It appears to be Agent Coulson, but as Agent Coulson is deceased, I am reluctant to allow your guest entry."

"It's good to hear your voice, JARVIS," Phil said. "I'm not dead. I was, for a while, but they got me back."

"It's true, J," Clint said. "You can ask Nat, too--she'll confirm it."

"Nevertheless, I will require a full biometric scan," JARVIS said. "If you would please step to the side, sir, I'll direct you through the process. I have, of course, notified Mr. Stark of your presence."

"Here we go," Phil muttered. He went patiently through the gauntlet of tests JARVIS wanted, including fingerprints, x-ray, backscatter, retinal scans--even swabbing his cheek for DNA. He kept expecting Stark to show up in his suit. Judging by the way Clint kept eyeing the elevator, he expected the same thing, but nothing happened. Eventually JARVIS was "provisionally satisfied" that Phil was who he said he was, and the elevator door opened to take them up to the penthouse.

Clint offered his hand once they got into the elevator. Phil took it gratefully and hung onto it all the way up, and he kept hanging onto it when they stepped out of the elevator to face the rest of the Avengers. 

***  
Stark stood so close to the elevator he almost blocked their exit; Captain Rogers was behind and to his right, and Natasha was leaning against the couch behind him. Dr. Banner was conspicuous by his absence. Thor wasn't there either, but Pepper, Jane, and Darcy stood clumped together at the opposite end of the couch from Natasha, and there was an African American guy Phil vaguely recognized as the one who had helped Natasha and Captain Rogers the previous year.

No one said anything until Clint stepped forward and said, "Hey, so, it's really Phil, okay?"

Natasha walked up to them and slapped Phil across the face. Phil's head rocked back with the force of it, but he didn't move. No one did; everyone focused on Natasha.

Her back was to the rest of them. Only Phil and Clint could see the tears in her eyes. Phil reached out to her slowly, giving her the option to back away, but instead she moved into his arms. "I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair. She was so small and delicate; he'd forgotten how it felt to hold her. Not that he'd had many opportunities; this was a precious gift and he wasn't going to waste it. "I'm so sorry, Natasha. I should have contacted you as soon as I realized what was going on."

"As soon as you woke up," Natasha corrected, her voice muffled by his shoulder. 

"As soon as I woke up," Phil agreed, although to him it was kind of the same thing, given the manufactured memories.

She studied him for a moment before kissing his cheek and stepping away. Pepper took her place almost immediately, hugging Phil tightly. "Don't you ever do anything like that again," she said through her tears. 

"I won't; I'm sorry," Phil said again. She clung to him for a few more seconds before she, too, kissed his cheek and stepped back.

"Wait, that's it?" Stark exclaimed. "One little slap from Romanoff and all is forgiven? Pep, come on!"

"I'm just glad he's back with us, Tony," Pepper said, blotting under her eyes with a tissue. "And I'm happy for Clint." She smiled at Clint, and Phil was surprised when she hugged him as tightly as she had Phil. "Are you okay?" she asked him, and he nodded, but when they pulled apart Clint's eyes were red, too.

"Clint?" Phil asked. Clint gave a tiny headshake, so Phil didn't press matters, which was just as well, since Darcy and Jane were next to come up and hug him (although Darcy slugged him in the arm first).

Stark and Rogers were looking at each other in some sort of stand-off, but neither of them moved. The one Phil didn't know came forward and introduced himself as Sam Wilson. "Heard you're a fan of Cap's," he said, grinning and offering his hand. 

"It's nice to meet you," Phil answered, nonplussed. Wilson looked to Rogers and raised his eyebrows, but Rogers didn't move. 

"Steve, come on," Wilson said, walking up to Rogers and bumping his shoulder. 

"I thought you were supposed to be better than this, Coulson," he finally said. "The way Clint and Natasha talk about you, I wouldn't have expected something like this." His disappointment was just as devastating as Phil had feared. 

"Look, guys," Clint started, but he stopped when Thor arrived with his customary thunder and lightning.

"Son of Coul!" he said once he'd entered from the balcony. Fortunately, he did not hug Phil, just clasped his shoulders and looked him in the eye. "I am glad to see you again, my friend."

"You're not mad?" Phil couldn't help asking. It came out sounding more plaintive than he'd intended.

"Why should I be?" Thor said, looking a bit bewildered. "When someone you feared lost has been returned to you, is it not something to be celebrated?" 

"Not when they've _lied to you _about being alive for almost three years!" Stark said.__

__"Forgive me, but three years is but a blink of the eye," Thor said. "Besides, even if it were centuries, I would still rejoice to see Phillip Coulson again; it would make no difference if some deception were involved. Your lives on Midgard are so short; every day you spend together is a gift."_ _

__Rogers shook his head, looking down. "He's got a point," he said, raising his head to meet Phil's eyes. "It's good to have you back, Agent Coulson."_ _

__"He's not an agent anymore," Stark said, pointing at him. "Which begs the question, what _have_ you been doing with yourself, now that there's no more SHIELD?"_ _

__"That's not actually true," Phil said, standing straight and facing everyone. "We've gone underground, but SHIELD still exists."_ _

__"Phil's the director," Clint put in. Phil wasn't sure if he should be relieved or worried that Clint had said it before he could. "Fury left it to him."_ _

__"What?" Rogers asked. He looked pale._ _

__"I'm the new director of SHIELD," Phil said. "What's left of it, anyway."_ _

__"I see I'm arriving at a good time," Maria said from behind him. "Hi, Phil. What the hell are you doing here?"_ _

__"You knew about this?" Stark asked. "Wait, of course you did. Are you working for Coulson, or for me?"_ _

__"I'm not working for Coulson," Maria said. Phil knew that was technically true; she still reported to Fury, who for all his talk of being "in the wind" was still quite actively running his own game. "But last I heard, he was still following Fury's orders about keeping his existence a secret. What happened?"_ _

__"I don't work for Fury anymore," Phil reminded her. "I decided it was past time to let the team know."_ _

__She frowned at him but kept silent._ _

__"Whatever," Stark said. "I'm out of here; let me know when the zombie's gone."_ _

__"Stark, we have a team meeting scheduled," Rogers said._ _

__"JARVIS, can you take Phil up to my floor?" Clint asked. "Give him full access."_ _

__"Of course," JARVIS answered. "If you will step into the elevator, Director?"_ _

__"Phil, I'll see you up there later, once the meeting's over," Clint said, looking at him apologetically._ _

__"I'll be waiting," Phil said. He deliberately stepped closer and brushed his lips against Clint's._ _

__Clint smiled softly at him and kissed him again. "See you soon."_ _

__Phil could hear Stark saying, "What the hell was that?" as the elevator doors closed._ _

__"I'm afraid Mr. Stark took your death very hard, Director Coulson," JARVIS said. "I'm sure that with time he will get past his anger at your dishonesty and be pleased at your safe return, as I am."_ _

__"Thank you, JARVIS," Phil said. "I'm glad to be back."_ _

__The doors opened, revealing a large, somewhat generic looking living area. "Your and Mr. Barton's bags have been placed in the bedroom," JARVIS said. "The kitchen is fully stocked. If you need any assistance, please let me know."_ _

__Phil walked into the room--into Clint's apartment--and the doors shut behind him._ _

__***  
He took a few minutes to look around the place. The living room had a couple of leather couches, a fireplace, and a very large television; beyond it were floor to ceiling windows opening out onto a balcony. It was beautiful, but nothing about it said Clint to Phil. The kitchen wasn't much better, although there were a few drawings on the refrigerator, most of them signed by either Lila or Cooper. When Phil opened the freezer, he found ice cream, frozen pizzas, and some plastic containers that looked like they held the kind of soups or stews Clint liked to make. He took a couple of them out to defrost; there was no telling how long the meeting would last, and he doubted any of the team would want to eat with him there._ _

__The bedroom was the first place that felt like Clint might actually live there. The bed was covered with an expensive-looking comforter, but there was a handmade quilt at the foot of it that Phil had never seen before, and there were a few pictures visible--Laura, Lila, Cooper and Nathaniel were in several, but there were also ones of Natasha and, to Phil's surprise, of Phil as well. In fact, the one on the bedside table was one Phil knew well, a shot of him and Natasha together in a ski lodge where they'd been undercover._ _

__Phil had a framed copy of another picture from the same mission on his own bedside table, but his was of Natasha and Clint. He stood by Clint's bed for a minute or more, looking at the picture, amazed all over again at the events of the past week. "I should've called him a long time ago," he murmured. "We wasted so much time."_ _

__He half expected JARVIS to respond, but there was nothing but silence. Phil puttered around a little longer before taking one of the longest, best showers he'd ever had--well, except for the ones he'd taken with Clint at the farm. He almost regretted that they would never be living together here, if only for that shower._ _

__He was about to go fishing through Clint's drawers for some pajamas when JARVIS said, "Excuse me, sir, but the team is requesting your presence for dinner in approximately fifteen minutes on the communal floor. Mr. Stark is quite insistent that you be there."_ _

__"Tell him I'll be down shortly," Phil said. He opened his bag and dug out his jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and a sweater. He didn't want the team to see him as the director of SHIELD; that wasn't all he was, and it wasn't why he was there._ _

__That thought stayed with him as he got dressed and got on the elevator, and it stayed with him through the rest of the evening. He'd always seen himself as the quintessential company man. SHIELD (and by extension the group of agents he'd grown closest to) was his life and his family both; he'd never needed anything else. As he stepped out and greeted Clint with another kiss, he realized just how irrevocably that had changed._ _

__Clint had been a company man, too, but he'd opened his life to more than that, to more than a singular purpose; he'd woven in other strands, and they'd made him not just happier, but stronger, too. Maybe it was time for Phil to do the same. The timing was right--everything back at base had been fine, even with him gone for over a week._ _

__He thought about it that night before going to sleep in Clint's arms. He thought about it again when he kissed Clint goodbye and told him he loved him before getting on the plane back to LA, and he thought about it during the long flight back. There was more to life than SHIELD, and for the first time in decades, Phil was ready to experience it._ _

__END_ _

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me either at [my fannish tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shellumbo) or [my pro writing tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sbyzmcpherson). Or you can follow either on Twitter: @shellumbo or @sbyzmcpherson. Or both!


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